#matt murdock comfort
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On Dark Days
Matt Murdock x Reader
Words: 2199
Summary: Sometimes your mind turns against you. Your partner is there to help.
Notes: Another self indulgent comfort imagine. Sometimes I just want a Matt Murdock hug, you know? As always with these, this is entirely based on my own experiences and struggles.
Warnings: Dark thoughts, mental illness, anxiety, etc.
More Matt Imagines: HERE
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He knew something was wrong when you didn’t answer the phone. You always answered when he called, your voice holding a smile every time, making it impossible for him not to grin as well. He’d wanted to ask you what you wanted for dinner so he could pick it up, but you didn’t answer. And, fearing the worst, Matt rushed home as soon as he could, leaving a pile of work on his desk that he would just deal with later.
The apartment was still when he got home. Eerily still. But there, sounding like gunfire in the silence, was a racing heartbeat and quick, exerting breaths.
Matt sighed, but not out of relief.
He knew exactly what this was and a new kind of worry settled into his chest. There was no salt in the air, which meant you weren’t crying, which meant you were keeping it all locked inside of you. It was eating away at you and there was nothing he could do to stop it. But he could help you through.
Matt opened the door to the bedroom, finding you facing away and curled up on your side. You were on top of the covers, arms shivering and wrapped around yourself.
“I’m home,” he said silently, hoping not to scare you.
Your shoulders tensed. “Hi.”
Matt didn’t need to ask. He simply crawled into bed beside you, pulling you to his frame, arms locked tight around you to hold you against his chest. It was something he found seemed to help, a reassurance that he was there and that you weren’t falling into the dark that was consuming you.
He stayed like that for a while, not saying anything, not prying… just holding you while you shook and breathed and your heartbeat slowly calmed from your second panic attack of the night.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “Breathe in.” His chest moved against your back as he did it with you. “Breathe out. In… out…” Matt kissed the top of your head. “There you go.”
“Sorry,” you mumbled, curling up even more.
Matt shook his head. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.” He pulled you a little closer, feeling your body tense up again. You were starting to shake and your heartbeat slowly started to pick up. He knew what it was. Guilt. Guilt for feeling the way you did, for thinking you were doing something wrong. Matt held you tight, not letting you go. “Hey hey hey, it’s okay.”
“You called…” You said softly. “I should have answered. I’m sorry. I know how m-much you worry.”
“It’s okay,” Matt insisted. “You’re here. Safe. And I’m here now, okay? You aren’t alone. I’m right here.”
You could feel his steady heartbeat against your back and his hands soothingly rubbing your arms and sides.
“You’re back early from work,” you said. “It’s my fault.”
“I came back because I wanted to.” Matt kissed the base of your neck. “I want to be with you.” He knew your brain was telling you otherwise.
You stopped arguing for a while and just laid there, staring blankly at the wall in front of you.
Matt shifted a little, leaning so you could see his worried, blank eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”
You melted into his touch.
“Do you need to talk about it?”
“Matt-”
“Sweetheart, you know it helps,” he urged gently. Matt turned you around in his arms so you were facing him. He laid a hand on your cheek. “Talk to me, baby. Please.”
His words and quiet, sweet tone hit your chest. He seemed to punch a hole through the dam. Finally, you started to cry.
“Okay.” Matt tucked your head under his chin. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
“I don’t…” You sucked in a shaking breath only to cough it back out with a quiet sob. “I don’t understand it. There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing h-happened.” You tried in vain to wipe away the falling tears, your hands shaking so bad they were hard to move. “I just feel so wrong.” There was one word that always described when you got like this. “Dark. Everything feels so dark.”
Matt gently brushed your tears away with his thumb, bringing you closer to kiss your forehead.
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” It shattered him to hear the quivering in your voice, but he knew that the demons that you dealt with were just that- demons. Thoughts your mind used against you. It didn’t define you. He always just tried to remind you of that. “Are you sure nothing happened?” He continued.
You burrowed closer to him.
That meant no.
“Okay, so what is it? What’s your head trying to turn around, huh?” He kept his tone a little lighter, giving you a small, reassuring smile as he tucked a hair behind your ear.
“I can’t do anything right,” you admitted. “Work. My friends… This.” You laid a hand on his chest.
Matt nodded. “And what is your mind telling you about all of that? What’s it trying to base it on?”
You started to retreat into yourself again, but Matt held strong. He rubbed smooth circles into your temples, soothing the anxiety headache that you had been trying to ignore.
“It’s okay, baby.”
You took another deep, trembling breath, speaking as you breathed out.
“I just feel like I’ve done something,” you whispered, like if you said it too loud it would become true. “I don’t know what, but everyone just seems off around me. Like they all have this secret about me that I have no idea what it is, but they won’t tell me, but it’s changing how they feel about me.” You buried your face in the crook of his neck. “I did something wrong and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Do you think I’ve been different around you?” He asked, his tone never raising or accusing. He stayed absolutely light.
“No…” You sniffed. “I don’t know, maybe.” You brought your hands up to your face to further hide yourself. “I don’t know anything. I just know it all feels like it’s my f-fault.” Another sob escaped, muffled by your palm.
“Alright,” Matt sighed, pulling you back to him. “Let it out, sweetheart. I’m right here.”
But the energy you’d had to cry had all but gone out, leaving you shaking and sniffling in his arms. You felt so pathetic.
“You know that I’m not upset with you, right?”
You tried to turn away. “I know, but-”
“Hold on, I want you to sit with that for a second, okay?” Matt instructed, making sure you stayed locked against him, safe and loved in his embrace. “You haven’t done anything to upset me. If I’ve been different, it’s stress from work. It isn’t because of you. You didn’t do anything.” His hands found every tension in your back and gently rubbed it out. He always knew exactly how to calm you down, whether it was with touch or his soft words. “Say it for me, hm?”
You shook your head weakly.
“Y/N…” He pressed.
You blew out a sigh. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Nothing is your fault.”
“N-nothing is my fault.”
“Your head wants you to believe it, but it isn’t true.”
You looked up at him, finding his distant, dark, loving eyes absently roaming your face. “It isn’t true.”
“There.” Matt brought your lips to his for a soft, assuring kiss. “I know it's hard to get past it, but those tricky thoughts are just that- tricks.” He kissed you again, a little deeper, but still gentle and loving. He pulled away with a smile teasing his lips. “I love you, Y/N. No matter what your mind tries to tell you. I’ll always love you.”
You snuggled closer to him, finally letting yourself smile a little. “I love you too, Matty.”
It wasn’t something you could explain- why your head did this to you, why it was so hard to move some days, why there were times when all you could think about was that you were broken and unlovable. Nor could you explain how Matt was able to pull you out of the dark that consumed you. While he couldn't fix everything, he could always ground you and remind you of the things in your life you loved and the people who loved you.
Matt’s hands slowly fell to your waist, holding you close to him while he breathed you in. After a while, his cheek nuzzled against yours, a new concern building in his mind.
“Did you eat today?” He asked.
You didn’t answer.
Matt sighed. “Say it for me, sweetheart.” The two of you had been over this before as well.
“I don’t have to ‘deserve’ a meal,” you breathed out. You’d been too tired, too consumed by your thoughts to realize how hungry you were. Even if you had realized it, you wouldn’t let yourself eat when you got like this. As if you had to earn food by being happy. It was something Matt was helping you work through too.
Matt nodded and sat up. “I’m ordering your favorite and not taking no for an answer, so don’t even try.” With another little grin, he kissed you one more time before climbing out of bed to reach for his phone.
You watched him, uncurling your body for the first time in several hours. Your muscles were stiff and ached, but you embraced it. Feeling sore was better than feeling empty.
Matt wasn’t gone long, having called your favorite restaurant and ordered delivery. He also put on a record of your favorite artist, letting the music fill the living room. He returned to the bed and lifted you up in his arms without warning, spinning you around to the melody.
“Matt!” You squealed, laughter bubbling through your lips.
Matt beamed. “I knew I could get a laugh somehow.” He kissed your temple and held you close to his chest, carrying you bridal style to the living room while still swaying to the song. He took you to the couch and sat you down, wrapping you up in a blanket and walking back to the kitchen to make you some hot chocolate.
“You know… I think there’s some cookie dough left in the freezer if you’re up for it,” he offered, raising an eyebrow.
You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Is that saying you want to make cookies?”
“Hey, I’m just trying to help you,” he said, holding his hands up. A wicked grin spread across his face. “It’s not my fault if I also happen to get cookies out of it.”
“Uhuh.” You held your arms out. “Now get back here, Mr. Murdock.”
Matt brought over the warm drinks and sat down beside you, pulling you back into his arms and kissing your forehead.
“Better?” He asked softly, lips against your cheek.
You nodded, frowning. “For now anyway.”
He held you a little tighter. “If it comes back, just let me know, and we’ll work through it together, okay?”
You nodded again, this time not saying anything and just settling against him. A tightness gripped at your chest and you felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you.
“I’m sorry, Matt.”
He pulled back. “For what?”
“For making you do this. You have so much going on and I hate that I add to it.” You swallowed. “It isn’t fair of me to put this on your shoulders.”
Matt grabbed you by the arms, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin.
“Y/N, how many times have I come back here beaten to hell and thinking I can’t do it anymore? How many times have I wanted to give up the fight? To let the darkness of the world take over?” He asked. You tried to look away, but he brought a hand up to your chin to make you look at him to see the sincerity in his face. “Who was the one who reminded me that there’s good? That there’s a reason to keep going? That I matter?”
His finger swiped away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen.
“You did, Y/N,” he said. “You always do. No matter how much I want to give up, you won’t let me.” Matt kissed you, firm and sure and everything you needed. “I will be there for you as many times as you need for as long as you need because I love you.” Matt rested his forehead against yours. “It’s not how you hit the mat…”
“It’s how you get up,” you finished, giving him a small smile. You pressed your lips to his, draping your arms around him.
The food arrived and the two of you spent the rest of the night listening to music and talking about new bakeries and boxing and work and everything in between. You weren’t totally out of it by the end of the night, but with every moment in your lover’s arms, you felt more and more like yourself.
Matt couldn’t keep the dark away. He knew that. But he could help you find the light again, no matter how long it took.
#marvel#charlie cox#matt murdock#matt murdock x reader#daredevil imagine#comfort#comfort imagine#daredevil#matt murdock comfort
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Hey, can I make a Matt x Reader request. Reader is a doctor and lives with Matt one evening Matt comes home with Spiderman who needs help. You become surrogate parents for Peter and think about adopting him since he's a son to both of you anyway.
Peter
~ Sorry this took me so long to get to. I had something written at some point but ended up scraping it 😭
~ Fluff, Maybe a little angst bc Peter is hurt at the beginning?
~ WC: 1,536
~ Matt brings home a kid ~
Being with Matt you've learned always to expect the unexpected. Matt has a heart of gold, always doing everything he can to help those in need. It's a good thing you're the same way. You wouldn't be a doctor if you didn't have the urge to help people but sometimes Matt, in your opinion, helps people that don't help him far too often.
However, one thing you didn't expect was for your wonderful boyfriend to come home with a kid. Okay maybe not kid, he's about sixteen years old, but that's still way younger than you or Matt. And way too young to be doing what he does.
When Matt brings home the kid, the first thing you do is freeze for a second. Who is this kid? How did he get hurt? How does Matt know him? Why is he in your apartment bleeding?
You're quickly pushed out of your thoughts when Matt helps the kid onto the couch and looks to you for help. You immediately jump in, using your doctor skills to the best of your ability. Both he and your boyfriend stay silent the whole time. Matt stays sitting in an armchair to the side, obviously stressed by whatever happened.
It takes a while to patch up the kid, whose name you still don't know, but as soon as you're finished, he falls asleep on the couch and allows you time to discuss this strange situation with Matt.
Why is it that he stays silent the whole time you're busy helping the kid but the second you're ready to talk he runs off to the kitchen, not exactly running off as the kitchen is right there, but still?
“Matt. Explain?” You don't know what to say or ask. A million questions are running through your head as you follow him to the kitchen.
“His name's Peter.” He hesitates to continue. “He's spiderman, that's how he got hurt.”
“What? He's a child!” How the hell is a teenager Spiderman?
“Yeah, I know that's why I've been keeping an eye on him.” He says as if it's the most casual thing ever. As if he didn't just bring me a beaten-up sixteen-year-old to fix up.
“What do you mean keeping an eye on him? Do you listen to him?” You turn back to the living room and collapse in a chair.
“No, he lives too far away. I just mean that I call him and check up on him.” His voice is quiet, careful not to wake the sleeping kid. “I met him a few weeks ago.”
“When you were in Queens? Is that why you left?” A couple of weeks ago, Matt spent a few days in Queens for a new client he met. He never said much about it and you never asked. You never wanted to invade his clients' privacy and you weren't sure he could tell you about it anyway.
“Yeah actually.” He doesn't say anymore and for some reason, you don't ask. Not sure if you want to know the reasons this kid, Peter you now know, could be in danger. You know Matt can handle himself so most of the time you try not to worry yourself but this is a young kid, that you can almost guarantee doesn't have anywhere near the amount of fighting training Matt had.
After a few hours of making sure he was okay on the couch, and convincing Matt to stay in for the night, you both decide to head to bed.
You wake up the next morning to loud crashing noises from the kitchen. You automatically know it's not Matt because one he is a terrible cook and two he is still lying in bed with an arm over your waist. So Peter must have woken up from his injury-induced slumber and started cooking because he's hungry?
You reluctantly throw yourself out of bed. Despite getting plenty of sleep you feel anything but well rested. As you head out of the bedroom you see Peter wearing the old clothes Matt put out for him and trying to cook something in the kitchen. From the smell of it, he's probably not the best cook either.
“Good morning.” You greet him, coming into the kitchen and leaning against the counter. He whips around to look at you in surprise, he clearly doesn't have the same super senses as Matt.
“Oh uh, good morning!” He tries his best to sound cheerful but his voice has an underlying tone of shock and awkwardness. “Sorry for waking you up. I know taking of someone you don't know so late at night isn't the best, so I thought I would make you and Matt some breakfast to try and make up for it. I'm Peter by the end.” You stay silent as he falls into an awkward ramble.
“Hi Peter I'm y/n. And you don't have to worry about making it up to us, we were happy to help. Plus I deal with this stuff all the time.”
“Right, you're a doctor! Matt told me about that.” He puts down all the stuff he was “cooking” and leans along the counter with you.
“Oh, he talks about me?”
“Well, it was that or all the people we've fought as masked superheroes.” He shrugs.
“Superhero? Aren't you a little young to be fighting like you do?”
“Maybe but if I can help people why wouldn't I?”
“You could always be selfish and use your powers for yourself.” You tell him out of both curiosity and the fact that if you had any kind of powers you can't guarantee you would use them to help anyone else.
“Yeah, I guess.” And just like you both stop talking. Waiting in silence for Matt to wake up before you order breakfast.
Peter stayed with you guys for a little over a week while you made sure he was fully healed from his injuries. Before long he was going back home to Queens to whoever he lives with. You know from one brief conversation that his parents are gone, he never said how or who he stays with now but that's not any of your business.
He comes over almost every week now for dinner, one of the only nights a week you and Matt cook instead of ordering takeout. You have the feeling Matt has imprinted on Peter, kind of like a baby duck. Maybe it's because they’re so similar. They can relate to each other in a way Foggy and Karen can’t. Well, Frank can but he and Matt don’t exactly get along.
Today is one of the days that he’s gonna be coming over for dinner. You and Matt are in the kitchen making a new pasta dish.
“So I wanted to ask you a question?” Matt suddenly tells you, while in the middle of stirring the pasta sauce.
“You know you don't have to ask to ask a question right?” It doesn't matter how many times you say it, Matt will always warn you before asking a question. Most likely because he's worried about bothering you.
He lets out a deep chuckle. “I know, sweetheart, but I'm worried you'll say no.”
“I doubt it. What is it?”
“You know how Peter lives with his aunt right?” He pulls the finished sauce off the stove so he can put his full attention on you.
“I knew he lived some family member, yes. Why?” You’re very curious as to where this is going.
“Well, she’s getting older and I thought maybe he could come and stay with us for a while.” Not what you expected him to ask.
“Matt, I would say yes to that if I could see how it would work. We don't have the room.” You shrug. You would love to help Peter out but you don’t think he would like living on the couch for at least a year.
“That’s why I'm asking you. You always know what to do with these things.” If he means the way you freak out thinking of every possible solution and pretend to know what you’re doing then yeah, you are a master at it.
“I don't know, Matty. There is about a year and a half before he goes to college, there is no way he’ll be comfortable here for that long.”
“I know. Believe me, I’ve been thinking of a way this could work. I just don’t want him to be alone.”
“He won’t be. Even if he can’t live here he’s always welcome.” And just by saying that you come up with the perfect idea.
A few weeks later it worked. Somehow everything magically fell into place. At the end of your previous conversation about it, you told Matt how great it would be if Peter could have his own apartment close to yours and magically one became available in the same building. Being sixteen, Peter obviously couldn't pay for the place himself but you were able to help out, having some extra money due to being a good doctor.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Matt comes up to you. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Eh, you’re rubbing off on me.” You grumble with a fake annoyance.
#matt murdock my beloved#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock imagines#matt murdock one shot#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock fic#matt murdock imagine#matt murdock reader insert#matt murdock x f!reader#matt murdock fanfic#matt murdock fanfiction#matt murdock fics#matt murdock#matt murdock comfort#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock x reader fluff#matthew murdock x reader#matt murdock x gender neutral reader#daredevil x gn!reader#daredevil x you#daredevil x reader#spiderman#peter parker
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Hi 🦆
I was thinking of an angsty/comfort request of Matt losing his powers for a certain period of time (could be an accident or curse or anything) and that he's struggling a bit being a regular blind person (feeling a bit insecure too ). The reader reassures him that she still loves him and needs him no matter what.
and just a lot of cuddling and soft kisses (im weak 😅🤧) as possible, tenkiu 🦆🦆
hii!! I love this sm!! thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌
…
in good time
Matt Murdock x fem!reader
word count: 508
✧.┊ MASTERLIST
Regarding what Matt does at night, there is always a high possibility of him getting hurt. You just never considered how difficult it would be to watch him struggle as you mend him back to health.
Several nights ago, when Matt was patrolling, he was caught in a pretty hefty fight between two rival gangs. He was massively outnumbered, and as hard as he tried, he could not keep up. When he returned home, he was completely out of it, so beaten and broken that you thought you lost him for good.
Since his incident, you've been taking care of him, considering he was practically immobile. He got quite the beating that left him with deep gashes, a concussion and jumbled senses.
As stubborn as Matt is, he eventually allowed you to care for him- not that he could protest. He was adamant he didn't need your help but soon realised he couldn't do much without his heightened senses.
So, for the last few days, you've been easing back to himself- as much of him that's left anyway.
"Hi," you softly greet Matt on the sofa. "Good nap?"
"Hm," he hums, nodding once, a solemn expression on his face as he focuses on the ceiling. "Just..." he starts, cutting himself off with a sigh. "Never mind."
"Matt," your tone is soft and cautious, almost like you're warning him. You sit on the edge of the coffee table and slip your hand into his, bringing it to you. "You'll get them back," you hesitated, gently rubbing over his grazed knuckles. "You always do."
"I know," he mumbles, pulling his hand away as if he was shielding from your comfort. "What use am I without them?" he whispers, his tone quietening like he knew what he was saying was wrong.
"What use? Matt, honey. Please don't speak about yourself like that," your cadence full of warmth. "I know it might not be what you want to hear right now, but you're still you without them. You don't need super-crazy-hearing for that."
"I know, sweetheart," he exhales. "I just feel like I'm starting from the beginning again."
"I didn't think of it like that," you admit, feeling embarrassed. "We can take it slow. We can do little things every day— or whenever you feel up to it, and we can try little things to get them back, okay? I still have more vacation days, so I can take some time off until you're all better."
"I can't ask you to do that."
"You don't have to. I want to," you smile, lacing your hand into his extended one. "We can take it easy, small things each day."
He lazily smiles, opening the blanket and nodding to the space in front of him. You snuggle in beside him, draping your arm over his chest as you cuddle into him tighter.
"I just miss the sound of your heartbeat," Matt whispers, kissing the crown of your head. "I love you."
You reach up to kiss his cheek. "I love you," you whisper back.
— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —
matt taglist: @hailey-murdock @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @redecoratestan @kpopgirlbtssvt @scarletsloveletter @princess-pebbles-things @messymissy @schneeflocky @readerhead @thegreengoop @charmedkim @queerponcho @selfryed
#matt murdock#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock angst#matt murdock drabble#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock comfort#matthew murdock#matthew murdock x fem!reader#matthew murdock x reader#daredevil
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too much
ⓘ i do not consent to k!nk interaction! any nsfw account that likes, reblogs, or in any way interacts with this post or my blog will be blocked and reported.
| Matt's intern gets overwhelmed at work.
| tags/prefaces: sfw age regression fic, matt is aware reader is a regressor, purely platonic/found family, matt is a father figure, from matt's pov, gn reader, overwhelmed/slight meltdown, neurodivergent reader but i dont think i could write a neurotypical if i tried
it'd been a long day, a long day where you had been growing more and more agitated.
Matt could tell as soon as you walked in, the way you huffed when you assumed he couldn't hear it, the jumbled whine stuck in your throat when the files he'd given you didn't stack together as neatly as you would've liked. his brows creased whenever he had to listen to your heart rate tug itself between rapid and sluggish.
the tips of his calloused fingers traced over the same three punctuated dots on whatever document detailing the latest case he'd been given, a hasty translation. most of the indentations were confusing or off. he didn't really care about the poor accommodations from his client at the moment, though—— his fingers went over the word 'and' about fifteen times before his mind had actually processed it, he was too focused on the sound of his intern shakily jamming a pod of something into the half-dead keruig Karen had gotten for their depressing kitchenette. it was a sweet thought at the time.
he made sure to politely inform her to avoid the $30 facebook marketplace listings afterwards, though.
an annoyed groan punctuated with a salty scent filled the small space, Matt's footsteps nearly silent as he made his way to the doorframe— his thumbs ghosted over the handle of his cane, his brows furrowed in a concerned expression as you tried not to cry over some coffee not going to plan.
“everything alright, kid?”
Matt asked quietly, his voice holding the same cadence of a worried teacher.
you didn't answer, though the familiar sound of muscles tensing around your face followed by fabric rustling at your hands told him you'd simply frowned and begun to fidget. his mind wandered to a different explanation, his own mouth turning into a frown at the thought.
Matt never saw your regression as something to be shamed—— the opposite, actually. no, he'd gone out of his way to stock the office up with hot cocoa packets and rainbow marshmallows (at least, the cashier told him they were rainbow. her heartbeat at the time didn't help his confidence on the matter.), he'd even gotten a little plush to keep on the office's couch.
still, having to watch you feel so upset never made him happy.
his hand carefully extended, feeling for the accursed coffee machine and gently fixing the top shut, his mouth curving into a line when he felt you sway a bit closer to him in the process.
his free hand reached around your shoulder, allowing you to rest against the worn fabric of his suit jacket. a quick smile from him as he listened to your heartbeat calm in his presence. he couldn't help the small swell of pride knowing he was doing something right to try and help ease your emotions.
“I should ask Karen to replace this soon. I think it has a vendetta.”
Matt chuckled quietly, a soft smile pulling at his lips as he reached up into the cabinet above the counter, feeling around for mugs and letting his hands trace over the ceramic. none of them had any features he could discern by touch, aside from a mug you'd attempted to put braille on in puffy paint, and another with three-dimensional fish scales across the front.
“nod when I get to the one you want?” he suggested with a head tilt as his hand went from one mug to the next, listening for your cue to stop.
he gave a soft giggle when his hand rested on a mug sitting somewhere near the top left row, followed by your hand tugging at his sleeve.
“this one, sweetheart?”
he took the sound of your hair brushing up and down as you giving a nod, moving the mug to the base of the machine and feeling for the indented labels over the buttons, turning it on the listening to the creaky sound of water boiling and hot chocolate dispensing out.
his hand idly traced up and down your left shoulder, absently counting each seam and thread along your shirt as the creaky noises came to a quick halt.
“careful, it's hot.”
he murmured, opting to hold the base of the mug as he handed it to you, waiting a moment to be sure you were holding onto it tight.
“now, we don't have any whipped cream—— but I'm told these marshmallows are shaped like rabbits...”
Matt's voice came out with a smile, his words enunciated with some suspense to try and make you happy, you exhaled a bit out of your nose, so he took that as a win.
he placed a few into the mug and let you hold onto his forearm as he walked you back into his office, sitting beside you on the hand-me-down sofa—— he chose not to ask Foggy where he'd gotten it, but most signs pointed to side of the road. nothing a gallon of lysol couldn't fix, he guessed. the springs prorested beneath the two of you, your head falling onto his shoulder almost instinctively, he was quick to bundle you in a blanket he'd left folded on the arm, exhaling a long breath as he listened to yours beginning to even out, the smell of sugary chocolate and printer paper filling his nose.
“s‘ has cats on it..”
his brows raised when you spoke, it'd been a little bit since you'd said anything today. anything of your own volition, at least.
“the mug?” he asked carefully, his own eyes beginning to droop, you were a welcome warmth against him, your own sleepiness felt contagious.
you gave a nod, felt against the crook of his neck as you sipped from the newly learned cat mug.
“that's nice, angel. are you tired?”
the question was rhetorical, more or less. he knew you were, his hand was already prepping to catch the half-full mug and set it on his desk in the event of you getting too lethargic to hold it up properly.
you nodded again, Matt gave a smile, tucking the blanket up just under your neck, your legs bunched up on the pleather couch.
“I think my client will understand if we take a nap,” his thumb traced over your brow, lulling your eyes shut. “just rest, the case will still be there in the morning.” Matt's voice was a mumble, drifting into soothing murmurs and eventual silence once he was sure you were fully asleep, his free hand underneath the mug, carefully removing it from your limp fingers and placing it on the nearest surface.
he gently laid on his back, letting you bundle up and rest your head on his chest, he didn't mind the cramped space on the couch. you were comfortable and at ease, that was all that mattered to him for the time being.
#sfw interaction only#sfw agere#age regression#merkitty writes#daredevil agere#matt murdock agere#marvel agere#mcu agere#matt murdock comfort#dad matt murdock#safe agere#agere fic#agere fanfic#fandom agere#agere fandom#noncom agere#sfw
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pairing. matt murdock x gender neutral! reader
summary. you have a tendency of nightmares due to one reason or another in your life. one night, when spending the evening with matt, you have a nightmare. matt, your loving boyfriend, is straight to the rescue to help ground you.
warnings. pet name here is used as a gender-neutral time - angel. deals with nightmares, but nothing too heavy. standard religious mention given it is matt - not mainly focused and no religious imagery, just briefly mentioned.
a.n. some fluffy matt x reader while i've been having nightmares and while i'm still working on a few requests as asks - i know it's not spicy but i still hope it makes people smile
words. 1.5k (shorter side)
You recognize your childhood home; standing out on the curb and feeling small at the front of a place that now holds an eerie air to it. Something about it feels wrong, but you can’t place it. The sun is peeking out over the top of the roof, casting you into a dark shadow that adds a gloom to a place that once felt so secure and protected.
The rising bubble of anxiety in your stomach wells more and more. Deep in your gut, you can feel it. How everything feels uncomfortably silent - not so much as a passing car or a bird in the air. When your eyes lift to squint at the sky to search for clouds, you see it. The slowly sliding disk that is overtaking the sun. The star sustaining life to your planet slowly dying as it’s devoured by the endless abyss, sending the world into a quickly spreading darkness. It spills over the land and while someone else could argue it’s a solar eclipse, there is a more sinister energy to it. Evil.
You can’t breathe. Your body feels like lead when you turn to race away before you can be swallowed into the dark – despite your best efforts you can’t outrun it. You can see yourself running. Moving as fast as you can, feel your heart hammering in your chest and your lungs aching for air. You’re running for your life, but it’s not enough, it’s gaining on you–
You jump up in a cold sweat; sucking in a shrill gasp with a tremor through your body. Fingers white-knuckling the sheets as you jerk upward – confused and startled, you’re immediately brought back to reality by the familiar voice calling out to you.
“Angel? It’s me, shh... Yeah, it’s me, Angel,” your boyfriend’s voice – Matt’s voice.
“Shh, it was just a bad dream… I’ve got you, sweetheart..” His voice was rough from sleep but he'd sobered himself of his exhaustion enough to sound warm and inviting. Composed and fluid. Making himself into something stable and firm for you to lean on at that moment.
The panic of being nearly engulfed by the ebony black blocking out the sun still feels like a genuine threat. Your heart drumming in your ears and leaving you short of breath like the bumps in the car that take you unexpectedly and your stomach swoops. Matt notices the crossroads you’re at between fight or flight and tries to coax you before your body can react too harshly.
“Breathe with me, angel.” His voice is even, thick like honey as lips coast the shell of your ear. Typically it’d give you chills, but right then it feels comforting to be surrounded by someone else. Matt is sat up with you, tight against your side and arm wrapped around you. The other comes to lay his hand flat on your sternum. You feel the warmth of his palm; the weight of it feels grounding in an odd sense. A comforting pressure.
You practice deep breaths with Matt – in through the nose, out past chapped lips. Your throat feels tight, and a bottle of water is absolutely in your future.
Matt doesn’t ask - he knows you’ll talk about it when you’re ready. And given the way he’d heard your heart pounding in your chest like it was about to burst free of its cage goes to show it was an intense dream. That’s not even counting the light rustling he’d started to feel and what had initially stirred him. Could hear every struggling, quivering breath. The near silent whimpers that pulled from you. Matt is more than relieved that moment has passed; pressing an encouraging kiss to your temple.
“There you go, that’s right.. I’ve got you.” Rubbing his hand sympathetically up and down your arm from where it rests on your shoulder farthest from him. You gravitate to Matt naturally, leaning your weight into him to feel small and protected. Matt would protect you from anything; Maybe even God himself.
Tucking away, you hide against the crook of Matt’s neck. Still deliberately trying to focus on your breathing and quell the deep unease from within. His hand on your arm lifts, letting knuckles softly brush the slope of your jaw. “You’re tight, sweetheart… Can you unclench your jaw for me? Yeah, just like that, perfect…” Going out of his way to assure that you’re not holding anything unnecessarily tight.
So intune with your body, it’s one of those things that always made Matt so considerate and gentle to you. His attentiveness, to the way he goes out of his way to listen for any discomfort or unease.
By the time he’s done with you, you’re jelly in his lap. Soft sniffles from tears you hadn’t even realized you’d almost shed. You were lucky enough they only watered; no need to suffer the embarrassment of crying over a nightmare that wasn’t even all that scary looking back on it. It was just the energy it emitted. How sick it felt; an imminent doom. It was scary. After a moment of calm quiet and deep breaths, Matt speaks up. “Do you want to try laying back down, angel…? Or are we staying up?” We. Matt really was with you for better or for worse, even in little insignificant moments like these.
You swallow hard around the lump, searching for your voice: “I… I don’t want to go back to sleep. Not yet…” You don’t mean to sound so quiet or rough; Matt picks up on it and his lips can’t help but curl into a soft smile. “Sounds like you need a drink anyways… How about we make some tea? I think we still have a box in the cabinet.”
You’re out in the living room with Matt. Both of you on the couch, Matt is more towards the corner seat so he can prop his elbow up on the arm. You, on the other hand, are pressed right against his side. The plaid throw blanket from the back of the couch draped over your lap - your legs are tucked up to keep your body closed up. Leaned right against Matt, where he has an arm stretched around you. In both your hands you nurse mugs of warm tea.
Fidgeting quietly with the tea bag – steeping it to make sure it’s thoroughly flavored.
“I didn’t believe Karen when she said these teas would change our lives,” Matt jests softly with an airy chuckle, lifting to take a languid sip from his mug.
“I still think it was a sweet gift; she knows you have a hard time sleeping,” You reply quietly - the corners of your lips curling into a delighted smile all the same as you watch the liquid in your cup.
“Seems I’m not the only one, though.”
That sours your mood briefly - eyes lifting to look at Matt’s dead eyes that stare at nothing.
The lights from across the road bleed in and dance across his skin, but even in the dark you make out the dusting of freckles. His dark ginger hair is a mess from bed head and having no one else to look presentable for. No reason to comb it out with his fingers.
“Yeah, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Cheek squished against Matt’s shoulder as you peer up at him.
“Don’t worry about that; I don’t ever want you to struggle alone. I’d rather lose a little sleep if it means I get to make you feel better…”
The words melt your heart. You can feel the genuineness dripping from the statement. Matt never makes you feel like a burden for your struggles; supportive and caring the whole while even if he’s not the best at doing it for himself. Who knew the Devil of Hell’s kitchen was such a sweet lover?
“...Thank you for staying up with me, then, in that case.” You amend - you’ve been trying to incorporate more positive connotations anyways, and apologizing all the time isn’t good. Thanking Matt is a better alternative.
“Always. It’s more time I get to spend with you, anyways. I wouldn’t give that up for anything…”
Matt’s fingers brush back through your hair so he can press his lips to your forehead. Tangle fingers into your hair after just to rub and massage at your scalp with his fingers. You slump against his side and the quiet evening doesn’t feel so miserable anymore with your boyfriend there.
Chit chat ensues for about a half hour. Matt tells you about the couple he can hear a few apartments over and the stray kitten they found outside and are excited to take in. You smile as you go back and forth. Both voices hushed; the calm you need to unwind again and not stay the night awake and in fear. Matt makes it easy to not be so afraid of the dark…
You both go to sleep not long after. Sleepytime tea managed to lull you back into a state of relaxation, and when Matt felt you dozing, he carefully took your empty mug from your hands. Sitting it on the coffee table, he’d then move to gingerly pick you up bridal style and carry you back to bed. Matt spoons you, crowded against your back, and arms wrapped around your waist. Nosing into your hair and always there to protect you from the things that bump in the night - even if they’re inside your head.
#Matt Murdock x reader#daredevil x reader#matt murdock#matt murdock au#matt murdock fanfic#matt murdock fic#matt murdock fanfiction#matt murdock x you#reader insert#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock x female!reader#matt murdock x trans!reader#matt murdock x male reader#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock comfort#charlie cox#charlie cox fanfiction#charlie cox characters#charlie cox x reader#charlie cox fluff#charlie cox x you#marvel fanfiction#defenders fanfiction#the defenders#matt murdock one shot#matt murdock imagine
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I Would Wait Forever - Matt Murdock x Reader
Summary: You and Matt have been friends forever and one night, after mutual pining, Matt takes a risk
Words: 3k
Warnings: none
Y/N’s POV
I’m jolted awake by the sound of the front door shutting, a dark figure moving around almost silently as if he was trying not to wake me, masking being put down. Matt’s back from being Hell Kitchen’s vigilant, the famous Daredevil. We’ve been best friends for years so of course I worked it out quickly. Well, let’s just say Matt forgot to his suit somewhere other than his wardrobe that I constantly raid as his hoodies are so soft and fluff so of course I’m gonna steal them.
I gather my thoughts, trying to steady my heart after waking from a nightmare and I can’t stop the small flutter in my chest as Matt steps into the moonlight streaming through his floor to ceiling windows. He looks exhausted, his suit torn and bloodstained and he practically collapses into the couch, head falling to my shoulder. My heart rate skyrockets and I’m groaning as he’s laughing, soft and warm before pressing a kiss to my shoulder where my shirt has slipped down. His lips feel like a spark of electricity, causing me to shiver as his lips ghost my skin. My mind is racing as if try to savour the feeling, storing it away for a future moment.
We’ve always had a close relationship, but lately it feels like something has changed. There have been moments I’ve caught him looking at me in a way that makes my heart skip a beat. I know he can’t see me in the way but it makes me feel like he’s looking straight into my soul and it has made it hard to keep my feelings in check as I don’t want to ruin our friendship by confessing how I feel. I reach up, running my hands through his fluffy hair as I ask, “Rough night?” Trying to keep my voice steady.
He nods, letting out a sigh, breath ghosting my neck, “It’s never easy out there,” His voice is low and gravelly as he speaks, “But I can’t just sit back and let those bastards run rampant.”
I understand his drive to fight for justice but the thought of him getting hurt or worse, losing him, makes me want to stop him leaving every night. I know I should tell him how I feel about him but I’m losing him in anyway so I just stuff those feelings to the back of my mind and focus on being there for him as a friend, “You want me to run you a bath?”He’s nodding, moving his head from my shoulder so I can stand and he holds his arms out with a pout of his lips as his deep chocolate eyes are on my face but slightly too far up for him to not be blind. It makes me laugh how cute he can be as I take his hands and pull him to his feet even though he can very well do it himself.
I head to the bathroom to run the bath, knowing he’ll go to his bedroom to grab some clean clothes and a towel so I barely bat an eyelid when I hear him moving around while I turn the faucet on and get the temperature just right. Matt uses echolocation of sorts to sense his surrounding, listening intently as to how sounds bounce off objects and from that he’s able to paint a pretty accurate picture every time. He’s more than capable of sorting himself out due to this but I like doing this for him, being able to show him how much he means to me with my actions and I know he doesn’t mind it either.
As the bath fills I can hear Matt making his way towards the bathroom so I put some of those sweetly scented bath salts into the water, watching them sparkle and shimmer before disappearing and giving the bathroom a faintly cherry smell. Fuck it smells so good, cherry being one of my favourite scents. I’m turning the taps off when the bathroom door creaks and Matt is hovering there, a change of clothes and towel in his hands and he’s in nothing but a pair of boxers, making my mouth dry at the sight of him. His toned muscles and defined abs are on full display, thick thighs making me swallow hard before I’m clearing my throat and composing myself because what the fuck am I doing? A flush spreads across my cheeks as I force myself to look away, not helping when I steal another quick glance as he is so goddamn attractive and seeing him practically naked does things to my body that I can’t ignore.
I’m clearing my throat again, moving aside so he can enter the bathroom as I say, “It’s ready for you,” My voice coming out a little breathless and there’s a shit eating grin on those pretty lips, “I’ll just uh… I’ll be in the kitchen.” I’m nodding more to myself that him before I quickly turn and speed walk out of the bathroom, back to the kitchen where I put the kettle on needing a coffee. The bathroom door is sliding closed behind me and I’m leaning against the kitchen counter, trying to catch my breath. Seeing Matt practically naked always leaves me feeling a little flustered and it’s harder to hide my feeling for him, as if he’s being affectionate and all those accidental touches weren’t so accidental. No, of course I’m just overthinking and overanalysing all of this, my heart seeing what my heart wants.
The sound of the kettle bubbling interrupts my thoughts and I prepare myself a mug of coffee, adding two sugars and a splash of milk plus a little caramel sauce that Matt keeps here for me. As I take a sip I can feel the warmth spreading through me, calming my nerves and clearing my mind. The time flashing on the clock has me groaning as it’s almost five am and the sun is starting to rise and I should be in bed but making sure Matt’s not dead is more important. I can’t sleep until I’m sure he’s safe, hence why I let myself into his apartment and fell asleep on his couch. His couch is looking rather comfy again as sleepiness clouds my mind a little.
As I walk to the sofa I can hear the faint sound of water splashing and Matt humming to himself, drawing a smile from me as I know he’s relaxing after a long night of being the hero Hells Kitchen didn’t’t know it needed. I settle on the couch and grab my book, trying to distract myself and pass the time until Matt’s done. But, of course, my mind keeps wandering back to Matt and how he is so special to me. I can’t help but think about how much I care about him, how much he means to me and how much it hurts to see him come back battered and bruised. I don’t think he feels the same way so I keep it all to myself, wondering what it would be like to be with him, holding him close and kiss him.
I’m vaguely aware of the book slipping from my hands and my head falling back to the arm of the chair as my eyes are slipping shut, the thought of Matt being mine on my mind. The sound of the bathroom door waking me suddenly and Matt’s silhouette appears in the doorway, hair damp and skin glistening in the morning light. He looks undoubtably ethereal, rather quite the opposite of his vigilant persona. He’s smiling at me still on the couch, book on the floor now and I’m letting my head fall back on the couch, watching as he runs a hand through his damn hair, leaving it sticking up in odd directions as he speaks, “Hey,” His voice soft as he makes his way over to me, “That was exactly what I needed.” He leans down and places a kiss to my forehead, causing my heart to try take up skipping as a hobby, “And now what I need is you in bed with me so we can get some sleep before Foggy or Karen comes yelling in about…” He pretends to look at a watch on his wrist as if he would be able to see one if he wasn’t blind, “Four hours.”
Before I can make any response he’s leaning down again and scooping me up, throwing me over his shoulder with a shriek from me. As he carries me to his bedroom I can feel the strength of the his muscles beneath my body, his back and shoulders are broad and defined and I can feel the firmness of his biceps as he effortlessly carries me. It’s no surprise that he’s able to move with such ease, even as a blind man. He’s trained to navigate the world using other senses, his body honed for strength and agility. He’s throwing me don into the soft mattress, a laugh rumbling his chest when I let out a yelp.
His bedroom is simple yet elegant, with dark wooden furniture and navy blue bedding, the walls are a light grey with a few pieces of artwork hanging here and there. They’re my favourite shade of grey, Matt having made me pick the exact shade of grey as if he knew I’d be here a lot. The smug bastard. The bed is large and inviting with plush pillows and a soft comforter that looks like it would be prefect place to spend the rest of the day so I’m shimmying out of my sweatpants and before I can reach under my shirt to undo my bra nimble fingers are there, breath warm against my neck, sending shivers and goosebumps after the brush of his fingers. His touch is gentle yet confident, moving away too soon so I can slip my bra off under my shirt before laying back in the soft bed.
Matt is joining me, the bed dipping behind me and I can’t not wonder if this is what other best friends do. Do they share beds? Do they cuddle like Matt is doing now, calloused hands finding my hips and pulling me back into his chest. He settles, the warmth of his body seeping into mine, sends waves of comfort and security over me. His breath tickles the back of my neck as he whispers, “What’s on your mind? You’ve been deep in thought since I got back.”
“Just thinking about life, ya know?” I reply, trying to keep my tone light, “The usual stuff really.”
Matt’s grip on my hips tightens slight and I feel him press a soft kiss to the back of my neck, “Hmmm, what about life?” He has to be teasing me, there’s a small smile as his lips are pressed against my shoulder as he raises himself on one elbow to look in my general direction. I take a deep breath, unsure if I should share my thoughts with him, even if he has always been my confidante and safe space.
“I… I don’t know Matty,” I say, voice barely above a whisper, “"Sometimes I just feel like I'm stuck. Like I'm not really living, just going through the motions. Do you ever feel like that?”
His hand moves from my hip, tracing soothing circles over my stomach and it’s a little ticklish and he knows it with the smile pressed into my shoulder before he replies, “Yeah, I know what you mean,” His voice is just as quiet as mine, “But you know what they say, life is what you make it. Maybe we just need to shake things up a bit, try something new.” Try something new… I turn my head to look up at him, his face only inches from mine and the way the light from the bedside lamp is hitting his face… I’m shaking my head, trying to clear my not so best friend thoughts about Matt as he doesn’t feel the same for me. No way he does, but he’s moving closer, voice low and rough, “I could try something new with you.”
I freeze, my heart hammering in my chest as Matt’s words sink in. Did he actually say that? My mind racing with a hundred thoughts and questions but I can’t seem to form a coherent sentence as much as I try so I’m being stupid and turning my head away from him, trying to hide the blush that’s spreading across my cheeks. He seems to sense my hesitation and pulls back slightly, hand still resting on my stomach, “Hey lovely, it’s okay,” He speaks softly, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”
With that he’s going to move away but I’m reaching up, fingers finding the stray tufts of his very fluffy hair at the nape of his neck as I roll onto my back so he’s hovering over me. My hand moving to his face, fingers gently tracing over his features and he lets me. I take int he strong lines of his jaw, the slight stubble that has started to grow and the way his cheekbones seem to be carved from marble. His nose is straight and prominent, giving him a rugged and masculine look and his eyebrows are thick and wee defined. But it’s his eyes that I always get lost in, a mixture of cognac and chocolate that seems to change depending on his mood but they’re always so warm and inviting when he’s facing me. Then there are his lips, full and soft looking with just a hint of a smile playing at the corners as he kisses the pads of my fingers when they trail over them.
This small action breaks my resolve and I’m suddenly grabbing his jaw, surging up to slam my lips into a kiss that pours all the pent up emotions I’ve been feeling for him. Matt’s surprised gasp turns into a groan as he responds eagerly, arms wrapping around me and pulling me closer. The warmth of his body envelops me, making me feel safe and loved, and I can't help but deepen the kiss. Our tongues tangle together in a dance that feels familiar and new at the same time, and I realise that this is what I've been wanting all along.
We’re finally breaking apart, panting and I can see the same desire on his face as he drags his bottom lip through his teeth, “Y/N,” He’s murmuring, voice rough with emotions, “I have been waiting for you to do that for forever.”
“You knew?” The moment is broken as I glare at him incredulously from where I’m laying below him, sinking into the soft pillows and probably looking no way as intimidating or mad as I hoped I would sound.
Matt’s face softens and he’s moving a hand to cup my cheek, thumb rubbing gentle circles on my skin, “Of course I knew,” He replies softly, “I can hear your heartbeat remember. I just didn’t want to push you, I would have waited forever for you to be ready.” My heart swells at his words and the warmth of his hand on my cheek. All the doubts and fears that had been holding me back melt away and I’m putting pressure on the back of his neck until he gets the hint, his face breaking out into a huge smile before he’s leaning down.
My heart flutters in anticipation, lips meeting lips and it’s better than I could ever have imagined. His lips are soft and warm, moving perfectly against mine and I can taste a hint of the peppermint toothpaste but the overwhelming taste of everything Matty is intoxicating. His hands cup my cheeks as mine tangle in his fluffy hair, pulling him as close as I can. Our bodies are pressed together and I can feel the warmth and strength above me, his body fitting perfectly above mine and I can’t get enough of him. The kiss deepening, hands starting to roam and explore.
His hands move down my sides, feeling the dip of my hips before he’s gripping them and pulling me closer. I’m running my fingers over his back feeling every ripple and dip of his muscles. His skin is warm and smooth, fingers running up his spine, feeling each vertebY/N and the muscles on either side as he shivers. The sensation of skin against skin combined with the passion of the moment is electric and exhilarating. It feels like time stands still and the world around us doesn't matter anymore. We break apart for a moment, gasping for air, and our eyes meet. In that moment, I know that I want to be with him, that he's the one I've been waiting for.
Matt leans down to kiss me again, and I can feel his smile against my lips. His hands move to my waist, pulling me even closer to him. I can feel the heat of his body against mine, and it's like we're two puzzle pieces finally fitting together perfectly. I wrap my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss even more. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to be with him like this. The kiss continues, and I don't want it to ever end but eventually, Matt pulls away, a small smile on his face again as he moves back to my side. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his gaze never leaving mine. "We should try and get some sleep," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. I nod, feeling a sense of contentment settle over me. As we curl up together, my head resting on his chest, I can feel his heartbeat under my ear. It's a steady, comforting rhythm, and I know that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, his heart my own lullaby drifting me to sleep within the safety of his arms and a promise of a relationship.
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Marvel Masterlist
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#matt murdock#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x y/n#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock smut#matt murdock imagine#matt murdock angst#matt murdock comfort#matt murdock Drabble#daredevil#daredevil x reader#daredevil x you#daredevil x y/n#daredevil fluff#daredevil angst#daredevil smut#Charlie cox#matthew murdock
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Hey, could I get Matt murdock with #8 and #20 off of your most recent prompt list? Maybe with a reader who has self harm problems? Thank you so much!
Here you are lovely, sorry for the insanely long wait :)
TW- Self harm mentions, I tried staying as gn as possible but I'll have to re-edit to be sure, reader hurt their arm but nothing else is specific I don't think, a little ooc matt, Written on mobile :(
817 words, enjoy!
“Are you alright?”
A simple question really. Not one that should scare you as much as it does, but it’s coming from Matt.
Your all-knowing, no-nonsense super boyfriend. The one who can tell you more about yourself than you’ll ever know and the one who sees you best without ever really seeing you.
He just returned from his “night job” as you called it. He kept bad guys off the streets while you were left at home to fight your own demons.
The answer to his question is no, but he didn’t deserve to hear that. You should be asking him if he’s alright, not the other way around. So you did what you do best, you hid and you lied.
“Of course, ‘m just tired. How was your night?” A simple lie, but a lie nonetheless. You didn’t like lying to your sweet, loving boyfriend, but you also didn’t like the idea of telling him about your most recent relapse either.
He hummed slightly as he managed to change into his sleeping clothes, a nice baggy shirt and sweatpants that highlighted everything they should. He tossed one of his shirts over to you, with far too much aim and accuracy for a blind man, “Here, it’ll be more comfortable, it’s supposed to get warm in the morning.”
Okay, this is great, this is fine, it’ll be fine. He won’t notice. You slowly took off the sweatshirt you were wearing, paying careful attention to your fresh bandages.
You don’t know why you relapsed, and you aren't even quite sure why you started harming yourself in the first place, but it’s been something that you have fallen back on time and time again. You had told Matt about your issues with it, and he was nothing but kind and understanding. You ended that conversation with a promise to stay clean, you promised you would talk to him before doing anything, and you promised you wouldn’t lie about it if you ever did it again.
So, you’ve broken three promises tonight, and you would really like it if your super-senses boyfriend wouldn’t sense the guilt that is practically flowing out of your being.
You finally manage to get the sweatshirt off of you as quietly as you can. You pull the t-shirt on over your head and Matt almost immediately turns your way.
“Do you have a bandage on?”
Your heart nearly stops. You try your best to even out your breathing, you don’t want Matt to notice that you’re stressed. You take a breath before answering, “What? No, why?”
He walks a little closer to you, while still keeping his distance. He’s only hesitant when you’re panicking. He knows, he knows, he knows. “I heard it. I heard the fabric and the bandage, I-. Please tell me you didn't hurt yourself again."
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. You stayed silent.
“Im sorry, i shouldnt word it like that. You can tell me if you did.”
“No, no I can’t, you’re gonna be mad at me, you're gonna leave me, i-.” You couldn't breathe. You were looking at the ground, your hands scratching at your sides. You weren't sure when Matt made his way to you, but soon enough you felt his arms wrap around you. You smelled his body wash and gripped his shirt to ground yourself. You caught your breath before removing yourself from him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"It's okay, I'm not mad. Just go take a seat on the bed okay?"
You did as he said, sitting on the edge of the large bed. You watched as he made his way to the bathroom. You heard some scrambling and a few sighs, but you let him be. It took about 5 minutes before he walked out again. When he reappeared he was holding a trash bag in one hand and a first aid kit in the other.
"What are you doing?" You asked quietly.
He placed the trash bag by the door, "Taking care of you."
"Why?"
He sat next to you and opened the kit, "Because you clearly can't do it yourself." He grabbed your bandaged arm, making sure to stay as gentle as possible. "I'm going to redo your bandages okay? If you don't change them out you're gonna get infected."
You simply nodded and let him do as he wished. Your gaze stayed strictly on the ground. You didn't want to see his face as he ran his fingers along your wounds, even though you could hear the change in his breathing. You hated this, you hated feeling so exposed to him, but he somehow managed to make you feel safe.
He finished rewrapping your wounds before letting you lay back against the pillows. He put up the first aid kit and crawled into bed with you, pulling you as close to him as possible.
"Goodnight Angel."
#yellowroseswrites#comfort fics#x reader#x reader fic#self h@rm#sh!reader#matt murdock#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x y/n#matt murdock x you#matt murdock comfort#comfort blurb
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Tick Tock
Pairing: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader
Content: Reader with Tics, Just a lot of fluff, Reader works for Anvil
I don’t have anything to post so this is just a short drabble with Matt!
~
It was another day at Anvil and today your job consisted of meeting with two lawyers that your boss, Frank, had joining the team. You’d had a rough night struggling to fall asleep due to a tic attack so you were in a lot of pain. Every part of your body ached. You were on your way to your office after grabbing a much needed hot chocolate from your co-worker, Eloise. She was a personal trainer for new recruits and was always bringing in treats for the team. Reaching the door to your office you went to reach for the handle. Only for your motions to be interrupted by a tic, causing your hand to punch your stomach instead.
“Sorry are you okay? That looked painful”
Too consumed with the pain and embarrassment you hadn’t noticed the person appearing next to you. He had scruffy dark blonde hair and a bright smile on his face.
“Yeah no sorry, just late for a meeting and we’ll you know how it is”
Their eyes seemed to widen at the statement and the pieces fell into place. He was the lawyer, your face heated up in embarrassment. The toll of the morning already making you want to collapse on your couch.
“You must be the head of Anvil’s legal department then, I’m Foggy Nelson and that fine gentleman over there is my legal partner Matt Murdock. Karen would be here but she’s redoing her self defense training courtesy of Frank”
The way they, Foggy, spoke of Frank made them seem like close friends. Your only hope was that you wouldn’t embarrass yourself any further. Opening the door to your office you ushered Foggy in, telling him to take a seat while you walked over to Matt.
“I’m holding out my arm for you”
You informed him before you even had the chance to reach your arm out for the man. Behind the red lenses of his glasses you saw his eyebrows raised, hesitantly you reached for his hand and placed it to your arm. As you led him into your office, you guided his hand to the chair and desk. Allowing him to map the general distance of the room before retreating to your side of the desk. As you collected the needed paperwork and files you could see the two men chatting, watching as Matt’s face reddened and Foggy quietly laughed. You went to open your mouth to speak but were interrupted by an abrupt neck jerk followed but a high pitched whistle.
“So these are your contracts which detail that your work for Anvil is completely legal, safe all that fun stuff. They also state that while doing this you won’t be doing any work for Anvil’s competitors, so basically that’s just other security company’s like Bishop Security”
You pushed the paperwork over to the men. Pausing for a moment to dig around in your desk drawers, fetching a braille copy of the documents as well as a signature guide.
“I’m so sorry Mr Murdock, they didn’t tell me you were blind. I do have a braille copy of the documents and a signature guide, although if you just wouldn’t mind signing the non braille copy just for my higher ups. Then you can keep the braille one as a spare copy. Never hurts to be prepared”
You pulled yourself out of your desk, walking to Matt’s side and helping line everything up for him. In your peripheral you could see Foggy signing paperwork, eyes occasionally peering up at you and Matt. Your body would let out the occasional jerk or unexplained noise. Although you tried to suppress them as much as possible to avoid unnecessary confrontation. Once both men had finished signing, you took the documents back and returned to your chair.
“Thank you both Mr Nelson and Mr Murdock. So your job here will primarily be working with me in the legal department while of course maintaining your own firm. You can do work at your own office or Anvil is happy to provide you a space within the building where you can host your own clients and do Anvil’s work. The documents we handle are often sensitive in nature due to the line of work Anvil does. Private military security can get a little rough and by no means are you forced to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. Top priority are the employees health and comfort, especially for our civilian workers”
The rest of the meeting went similar to that. You going over documents and paperwork, as well as answering any questions. As it drew to a close you prepared any files they legal duo would be taking on their way. You walked them both to the elevator, saying quiet goodbyes and thank you’s.
~
The next time you saw Matt you had been dragged to some rundown bar with Frank’s girlfriend, Karen. You weren’t close by any means, but Frank hung around your office a lot when he wasn’t training. Asking your advice on everything to do with romance as he had seen you read a lot of books. He had insisted you go out and try to make some friends, which is how you ended up in Josie’s with Karen, Matt and Foggy. Watching as Foggy drank the eel, whatever that meant. The entire night you tried to suppress your tics. Physical discomfort running through your veins as you fought them off.
“Karen I’m just gonna get some fresh air”
You whispered to the blonde before running out of the building. The alleyway next to Josie’s was somewhat quiet and uninhabited. It was a bad decision but it was also all you had at the time. Agony lurched throughout your body with each violent tic. Your muscles ached and you could do nothing but wait it out. Whether that be minutes or hours.
“Hey, you out here?”
Matt’s voice reached your ears. The soft clacking of his shoes, you couldn’t deny the fact he was attractive. If it wasn’t a conflict of interest you probably would’ve tried to get him into bed.
“Here, alleyway”
Your voice was broken as the response left your lips. Instant regret filled you, why’d he have to see you like this? Most of the time you had an attack you were alone or in your office. The only person who had ever really helped you was Frank and you half assumed it was a parental instinct, one your parents didn’t have. Matt walked down, the tip of his white cane colliding with your tucked up frame.
“Your body keeps cracking, are you okay?”
You raise your brows, questioning him silently before realising he can’t see it. Gently he places a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it slowly.
“How can you tell that? I can barely hear it and it’s my body”
A small chuckle leaves Matt’s lips and his hand travels to your neck. The pads of his fingers dig lightly into the nape of your neck. The applied pressure soothed you greatly and it made you wonder how he knew what to do.
“I- uh- well it’s complicated, I have enhanced senses. The accident I was in as a kid that made me blind, it replaced my other senses on another level. Everything is so loud all the time, everything I touch feels like it’s grating me. When I heard you in the office, guiding me and treating me like a person. It- well it was sweet, besides Foggy and Karen no one really thinks to do it. You did it like it was normal to do and then I heard it. The clicking, your muscles pulling trying to hold yourself back. All I wanted to do was help, so when you rushed out I wanted to follow immediately. It was a bad idea, an impulsive thought. So I decided to hold off and then you just kept getting louder, so I told Foggy and Karen. Now we’re here”
You hadn’t noticed it but your tics had slowed down immensely. Matt’s hands kept applying small amounts of pressure in different places, digging in lightly. Rubbing your muscles and helping soothe them.
“That’s… that’s how you know how to help me. You can hear what my body needs even when I can’t tell?”
He nodded and a small smile crossed your face. You couldn’t even process what was happening until you smashed your lips against his. It wasn’t how you ever imagined first kissing someone but it was nice.
“Did you just kiss me?”
Matt said, surprise lacing his voice. Heat rushed to your face and you wanted to run away. Before you even had the chance he kissed you again.
“Never thought my first kiss would be with someone I’ve met twice, but I also think I’m a little drunk so I’ll allow it”
It caused Matt to laugh and that’s how you ended up tipsy in an alleyway after a tic attack, kissing a really hot lawyer who later took you back to his apartment. Subsequently you never left after that night and moved in without either of you saying anything.
#matt murdock x y/n#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock#matt murdock x gender neutral reader#matt murdock x male reader#matt murdock x gn!reader#matthew murdock#matthew murdock x reader#tourette’s!reader#tics!reader#read with tics#short drabble#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock comfort#matt murdock fluffy#matt murdock needs to comfort me asap#i’m in love with matthew murdock#i need born again to come out right now
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my favorite matt murdock/
frank castle writers
@little-miss-dilf-lover
@cellophaine
@courtforshort15
@amhrosina
@frvnkcastles
@chvoswxtch
@devils-dares
@peterman-spideyparker
@farfromstrange
#matt murdock x reader#frank castle x reader#the punisher x reader#frank castle fluff#matt murdock comfort#frank castle angst#matt murdock angst#daredevil x reader#matt murdock fluff
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It’s okay, I’ve got you.
Matt Murdock x Reader
TW: Abuse, SA, Domestic Violence
Masterlist
TW!! Abuse, Sexual Assault
Summary: You are in an abusive relationship, things get way out of hand, and you seek refuge with your best friend, Matthew Murdock.
A/N: I got inspired by a line from “Separate Ways” by Journey. Enjoy. :)
“If he ever hurts you, true love won’t desert you.”
You couldn’t stay, you had to get out. Your day had been absolutely amazing so far. It started off with Karen bringing donuts and coffee to the office, then Matt and Foggy getting more leads on a big case, and then the four of you had decided you were going to go out for drinks. You were home on time, knowing your boyfriend hated when you were late, and you had then picked out a nice outfit to go bar-hopping in. (Mid-drift shirt, and a pair of jean shorts.) Everything was fine until he saw your outfit. Then it was loud. Overbearingly loud. He screamed at you for what seemed like hours, his voice piercing your ears as tears welled up in your ducts. Then he started getting physical. Glass was shattered on the floor from a glass that based on his scent, was filled with whiskey. A spare shard had gotten stuck in your neck, and you felt blood trickling down your collarbone and onto the outfit that had gotten him so pissed off in the first place.
“You look like a fucking slut. Is that what you’re trying to be? Trying to go out with your stupid little co-workers and slut yourself out to the first man that looks at you?”
His degrading voice was engraved in your brain as his palm collided with your cheek. You cried out in pain, the tears finally spilling, as he slapped you again, yelling out more profanities and derogatory comments at you. Your cheek was sure to bruise. You couldn’t show up like this. You were supposed to meet them in 2 hours. You couldn’t show up like– like this. You stood near him shell shocked, crying in pain and still feeling the blood trickle down your neck.
“You want to be a slut? I’ll treat you like one damnit.” And the next thing you know his hands were on you. His hands grabbed you in places you did not want him touching. His hand had a bruising grip on your arm as he had his way with you with a smirk. You laid there in his bed, bruised and beaten, dried blood on your neck and chest, bruises littering your stomach, thighs, and neck. You had to leave. With whatever strength you had, you had to go. Go anywhere but here. He was out on the balcony of your shared apartment, having a smoke, and you decided this was your time. You got dressed into a T-Shirt and sweatpants to hide your bruises, before you quietly exited the bedroom, and then the front door. After that you ran. More like limped because of how sore and battered your body was, but it was as fast as you could go. You don’t know how, or when, but your body must have subconsciously made its way through Hell’s Kitchen, and towards Matt’s apartment. Truth be told, Matt heard you from 2 miles away. Your uneven breathing, the blood plastering itself against your neck, the way you winced everytime you breathed because of your cheek. He was pacing his apartment, waiting for you to arrive. He knew you were coming to him. You did indeed manage to limp your way to his place, and hoist yourself up the stairs. When you made it to the door, your hand had reached to knock, but the door swung open before you could, Matt standing there ‘staring’ at you. A breath hitched in his throat when he heard your breathing slow once you saw him.
“Matt..” You rasped quietly, voice hoarse from all your sobs, and as soon as you saw him, you couldn’t help but break down again, violent sobs ripping through your throat. He immediately hugged you, bringing you inside, and cradling you as you cried into his chest.
“Shh.. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He cooed gently, rubbing the back of your head. You didn’t smell– normal. To him, normal was your favorite scented perfume that was too strong for his enhanced smell at first, but he eventually got used to it, the smell now comforting him. To him, normal was the exact same scent as your perfume shampoo that he, surprisingly, could smell right now despite the overwhelming non-normal smell of alcohol, blood, and salty tears. He slowly led you to his couch, trying to make sure not to bump into anything, even though he knew the layout of his apartment like the back of his hand by now, but for your sake, he was gentle. He knew you needed him. He desperately wanted to know who hurt you, but he didn’t ask, for your sake.
“Matt–Matt I.. I’m sorry.” He couldn’t believe what came out of your mouth. You? Sorry? For what. By what it looks like, you had done nothing wrong.
“For.. For showing up out of nowhere. I–I’m so sorry I know we were supposed to go out and-and I probably am being a burden right now but–” He immediately cut you off with a gentle squeeze, still cradling you like a newborn child.
“You are not a burden. Please don’t ever feel that way.” He said gently, as you sniffled, and immediately went back to sobbing into his chest. He held you there, probably for about a good thirty minutes until your heartbeat finally slowed, and you finally lifted your tear-stained face from his chest.
“I was– I was getting ready to go out. You know.. We were going to go for drinks..” You started, Matt cocking his head to the side, letting you know he was listening as his hands ran absentmindedly through your hair.
“I picked out this amazing outfit.. I felt- I felt really good in it. My boyfriend, he– he came in after I got changed, and he got mad–really mad-” You felt yourself start to tremble again at the thought, your heartbeat getting faster once more as Matt gently shushes you.
“It’s okay, keep going, I’ve got you, you’re safe.” He reassured, as you nodded quietly, before returning to your story.
“He.. He started calling me names. Really not nice names. And then– then he– then he threw a bottle. A shard got in my neck.. I got it out- The bleeding stopped a bit ago..” You explained, bringing your hand up to feel the dried stream of blood from the glass shard you picked out on the way here.
“He then.. Oh god– Then he..” You couldn’t bring yourself to talk about what happened next, not in front of Matt. You felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at the fact that you are here, crying in your best friend, and co-worker’s arms over an abusive guy you couldn’t bring yourself to break up with. He always hurt you, but you kept telling yourself that it wasn’t him. He was just angry. You made him angry.
“You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to sweetheart.” He said in a hushed tone, the nickname rolling off of his tongue like it always had. That’s another thing. Your boyfriend absolutely despised Matt. The bond you and Matt shared always just pissed him off, especially when he figured out that you were going out alone with him.
“He touched me Matt.” You whispered, and you felt the passive aggressive way he tightened his arms around you. You winced at his grip, his arms digging into the bruises. He muttered a quick apology, before his hands drifted from your hair, to ghosting your face. You knew what he wanted to do, you just wanted to hear him ask to make sure.
“Can I?” He asked gently, almost as if his words could hurt you more than his hands. You hummed a quiet ‘yes’, as he gently pressed his palms against your cheeks, feeling the bruise on your left cheek. You knew he just wanted to assess your injuries. His hands slid from your bruised cheek, down to gently press against the cut on your neck, feeling all the bumps from the dried blood. He couldn’t help himself anymore. He knew your boyfriend hurt you, for quite a while actually, however he didn’t say anything because you didn’t say anything. He finally decided to speak up after what felt like centuries of him mapping out your injuries, making you a bit more insecure, but you knew he was just trying to help.
“You’re not going back to him. Y/N I won’t let you.” He started and you gripped his arm, seeing tears well up in your eyes again made his heart break. You started to try to object, but he cut you off.
“Foggy and I, we can– we’ll be your lawyers. We can take him to court for domestic violence– we can-” This time you cut him off.
“Matt.. Matt Please no. No court, please.” You begged him. As much as your boyfriend had hurt you, you couldn’t bring yourself to take him to court. You barely had the courage to leave after tonight's incidents. Matt heard your change in heart rate again, and sighed, running his hands through your hair, making you look into his eyes, though he couldn’t see you. That was another thing, he wasn’t wearing his glasses. His maple brown, warming eyes stared at you, looking like they were trying to scan your face, though they couldn’t. His brown, normally slicked back hair was disheveled, messy, though you couldn’t help but stare. You wanted to stare.
“We don’t have to press charges, but I won’t let you go back to him.” He wasn’t dropping that fact. Where would you go then? You had nowhere to live, your salary with Nelson and Murdock wasn’t exactly a lot, so you couldn’t afford another apartment. It made you realize how much you relied on him, and he knew it. You lived in his apartment, ate his groceries that he bought with his salary, you bought your clothes with his money. He had you wrapped around his finger. You relied on him.
“Matt– Matt where will I go? All my stuff is at his place. I have nothing–”
“You can live with me.”
Your breath hitched. Live with him? You could feel the blush rising to your cheeks, and Matt could too, but for your modesty, and what had just happened, he didn’t say anything. However what he did say was completely different from anything you would have ever imagined.
“Stay here with me. Let me treat you better. It sounds so selfish of me despite everything that just happened to you, but I want to treat you better. I want to wake up with you every morning, enjoy coffee in bed with you before work, and come home with you after. I guess what I’m trying to say is I want to love you, Y/N.” Matt said softly, brushing the stray tears that fell during his little confession off of your face. That is something you haven’t heard in a long time. ‘I love you’. He hasn’t said it to you in a year. You had never seen yourself being in a relationship with Matt, purely because he seemed way out of your league, and showed no attraction to you what-so-ever. You stared up at Matt, looking at his very kissable lips, but he thought you were about to cry.
“No, no no, sweetheart don’t cry.. I’m sorry-” You cut him off with a soft, yet very quick peck on the lips.
“I hope– I hope that’s enough to show how I feel about you. I really like you too. I can’t– I can’t fully say it yet, I need some time, but I want to be with you Matt.” You whispered, squeezing him tightly as a grin worked its way onto his face. He laid down, pulling you down with him, and onto his chest.
“Take all the time in the world, darling, I’ll always be here. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.” He cooed, running his hands up and down the small of your back in a soothing motion. That night you had the best night sleep you’ve had in a while, despite the aches from the bruises, and all of your cuts. It was all Matt’s doing. He comforted you up until you fell asleep, and even then he stayed awake for a bit after to make sure you fully fell asleep. He had meant what he said. He was going to protect you with all he had. You were his now. His sweet angel.
A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I would like to include that if anyone is suffering from domestic abuse to please call the domestic abuse hotline. (800-799-7233) You are not alone.
#matt murdock#daredevil#mcu#marvel#matt murdock soft#fanfiction#matt murdock is the sweetest man ever ong#matthew murdock#matt murdock fanfiction#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock comfort#comfort
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the croissants
buttercup, chapter one
a/n: i was actually working on something else, but then one night i got the desperate need to rewatch daredevil yet again and then this just kinda accidentally tumbled out. oopsi i guess.
summary: he offered you a polite smile that sent a swarm of butterflies soaring within your belly, a sensation that you hadn’t felt in ages, “welcome to the building,” he added as he tugged his door open.
warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, moving, lowkey love at first sight (for reader)
word count: 2415
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“Do you wanna make the call or would you like me to do it?”
Turning to look at the robust and inked visage of your uncle, your face crinkled up slightly as you asked in a hesitant tone, “…would you mind doing it? Please?”
“Sure, hon,” Howard nodded before blinking down at his phone and dialling the number, “what kind? Margherita?”
“Yeah, and with some arugula on top, please,” you spoke as you squeezed by a tower of messy moving boxes to enter the open kitchen of your new apartment, “thank you!”
Hearing his footsteps carry him deeper into the new home, his voice soon rumbled, muffled behind your bedroom door. Opening up the cardboard box that half blocked off your empty fridge, you dug through it till you found a glass, swiftly straightening back up and filling it up with water.
“How are you doing, cupcake?” you heard the soft voice of Walter, your uncle’s husband, as you turned off the tab, “you gonna be okay tonight? Because if you don’t want to be alone, we can stay.”
“No, it’s alright, I think I’m okay,” you took a tiny sip before placing the tall glass down on the counter, “you both gotta get up early tomorrow to open the bakery anyways.”
“It’s never stopped us before. Do you remember when you were 11 and you watched that terrifying movie at some slumber party?” a smile twitched at the bald man’s lip from the memory, “I don’t think any of us slept for a whole week straight and the bakery still kept on running. If we could get through those sleepless nights of trying to convince you that our apartment wasn’t haunted, then we can get through this.”
Stepping up closer to him, you caught his hand in yours and said, “I think I’m gonna be okay, but thank you, Walter, really, for everything, for this, for letting me move back home and letting me stay there for over a year.”
“Hey,” he squeezed your palm and ushered you to meet his gaze, “you do not need to thank us for that. It’s–…” he dropped the heavy comment he nearly uttered and instead let out a low sigh, “we love you. It was the very least we could do.”
“I love you too,” you heard your voice threaten a tremble of vulnerability, “so much.”
As the bedroom door then swung back open, out stepped Howard with an exhale, “alright, the pizza is on its way. You gonna be okay here?”
“Yeah,” you offered him a nod before walking them out.
Peeking back at you over his shoulder as he swung his bright red scarf back on, Walter raised his brows tenderly, “promise that you’ll call us if anything happens, yeah?”
“Promise,” you breathed as you watched them creak open the front door and step out into the cold hallway, “love you, goodnight!”
“Goodnight, hon!” Howard waved over his shoulder at your visage in the doorway as the couple reached the stairs, “see you tomorrow! Try and get some rest, just head in whenever you get up.”
“Okay,” a soft smile warmed your features. Lately, or the past year actually, they’d let you cut down on your work quite a bit so that your hours at the bakery were significantly less and the only days you were to get up before the sun did was on weekends.
“Bye!” they both called out loudly as they disappeared from your view before your own echo rang throughout the hallway.
“Bye!”
You didn’t manage to unpack much, only half of your books, before the buzzer rang obnoxiously, causing your feet to scramble to let the delivery guy up.
Swiftly locating your backpack, you fished out your wallet just before a knock boomed at your door.
“That’ll be twenty bucks,” the pimply-faced pizza guy spoke in a monotone voice as soon as you opened up.
Catching the shadow of another figure ascend the staircase just before you began to dig through your wallet, his handsome and scruffy features were adorned with a pair of glasses that had a darkly crimson tint to them.
“Yep… uh… do you have change for a fifty?”
“Nope,” he impatiently blinked before loudly popping his bright blue bubblegum.
“Oh, alright…” you felt your palms begin to sweat, “do you mind just waiting here for a second? I might have some more cash in a jacket… somewhere…”
But just before you could duck back inside, the suit-clad man who had stopped to unlock the door directly opposite yours, whipped his own wallet out and handed off the needed bucks, “here.”
Satisfied, the pizza guy accepted the change and shoved the wide box into your arms before dashing off.
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you blinked over at your generous, new neighbour, “I can pay you back–”
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he offered you a polite smile that sent a swarm of butterflies soaring within your belly, a sensation that you hadn’t felt in ages, “welcome to the building,” he added as he tugged his door open.
“Thanks,” you uttered, slightly windblown in your threshold as he disappeared into his apartment.
Slipping into your sneakers and hastily fastening them with sloppy bows, you slugged your jacket on and grabbed your bag. As you exited your apartment, the neighbouring door opened just as you locked up your own.
“Oh, hi!” you squeaked over your shoulder as you turned the key, “good morning!”
Your breath got caught in your throat as you turned to face him fully, shoving your bundle of keys into your pocket. Did he look even better than you remembered? Now no longer obscured by the terrible excuses this hallway had for lighting, the frosted window to your right illuminated every detail of him that you’d missed the first time around.
“Morning,” he replied as he too locked his door behind him.
Waiting a moment before you began to move your feet, you eyed his polished attire, “are you off to work?”
“Yep,” he nodded and fished out a folded-up cane from the inner pocket of his jacket, “you?”
“Yeah,” you sucked in a breath, “I’m Y/n, by the way, forgot to introduce myself the other night.”
“Matthew,” the bespectacled man extended his hand out for you to shake, “nice to meet you.”
After ignoring the tingle his touch sent down your spine, the two of you began to descend the stairs.
“Thanks again for what you did with the–, oh! I should pay you back!” you reached into your deep coat pocket to locate your wallet, “I’m pretty sure I have–, how much was it?”
“You don’t have to, it’s fine, really,” he politely declined.
Reaching the bottom of the staircase, your brows flew up, “seriously?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged as he then held the front door open for you to get out onto the street first.
“Thank you, Matthew,” you slipped out, waiting a moment before you began to head off, “have a good day!”
“Yeah, you too,” he said, flicking out his cane to its full length, just before you both began to walk in the exact same direction.
“Oh, wait,” you slowed as a giggle bubbled out of your lungs, “you’re also heading this way?”
“Oh, uhm, yeah.”
“Do you–, uh… I can wait for a little bit and let you get a head start if you–”
“Or you can just walk with me, if you’d like,” he suggested with a gentle smile that made your brain forget for just a split second where your destination was in the first place, “it’s fine with me, I don’t mind the company.”
“Okay,” you agreed in a quiet voice, returning to a brisk pace beside him. You didn’t take too many strides before a casual question nervously fell from your lips, “so, have you lived here long?”
“In the apartment or Hell’s Kitchen?”
“Oh,” your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, “both, I guess.”
“I’ve been in the apartment for a while,” he told you, “but lived here in the neighbourhood pretty much all my life.”
“Yeah?” you smiled, maybe glancing over at him a bit too much for it to be safe as you walked, “that’s nice.”
“You?”
“Uhm, grew up in Brooklyn, moved here to live with my uncles when I was nine, after my parents passed.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” his low tone emanated an air of kinship.
“It’s alright. It was a long time ago, I was just a kid... anyways! Enough about me before I spill all of my childhood trauma to you,” you gracelessly changed the subject, “you are in a suit.”
“I–,” a faint laugh tumbled out past his lips before he joked, “I’d sure hope I am and didn’t accidentally change into something else.”
“No–, I mean, yes, obviously,” you felt heat begin to rise in your cheeks, “that was just a very weird and backwards way of asking what you do for a living.”
“Ah,” his dark brows lifted in comprehension.
“Let me guess…” you fiddled with your fingers as you thought, “accountant? No… politician? No… funeral director?”
“Funeral di–,” Matthew chuckled, “no.”
“Do you work on Wall Street? Oh, please tell me you don’t because here I was just starting to think you were super cool.”
“No, I don’t work on Wall Street, but good to know that you think I’m cool,” he smirked, making you regret letting that information slip, “I’m a lawyer.”
“A lawyer?” your eyes grew, “seriously?”
“Yep.”
“That’s–... that’s–… waow…” you uttered, completely dumbfounded by the imposing nature of his profession, “well, now I don’t wanna tell you what I do, because it’s so not as impressive.”
“Oh, come on,” he tilted his head, “now you have to tell me.”
“…I’m a baker,” you finally said, “actually,” stopping your stride, you briefly brushed his arm for him to do the same, “this is where I work, right here.”
“Really?”
“It’s called Buttercup Bakery,” you glanced up at the familiar storefront, “have you ever been in there?”
“No, never,” his head shook lightly as a small smile warmed up his features, “funny, my office is just a few minutes further down the street, I must have walked passed this place a thousand times but I never noticed it before.”
“Well, you know of its existence now…” you turned your head to gaze at his striking visage once more as he raised a hand to adjust his glasses, “do you wanna get a coffee or something? My treat, as thanks for the pizza.”
“I’d love to,” he sucked in a breath, “but I really have to get going.”
“Oh, yeah, of course,” you nodded lightly, “well, thanks for the walk, have a great day. Hope you win a bunch of cases and–, uh… I don’t know, help make the judicial system better,” you couldn’t help but physically cringed at your clumsy words.
But your new neighbour didn’t seem to mind as he just chuckled before wandering off, “bye, Y/n.”
The small bell above the glass door to the bakery chimed softly as you pushed it open. The interior was simple, both in colour and design, but had a rustic charm to it that gave it a sense of home. Behind the counter, and the mouth-watering baked goods lined up and displayed behind the clear glass, stood Walter. Facing the long shelves adorned with various loaves, he grabbed a crusty baguette and slid it into an appropriately long brown paper bag.
Handing it off to the little old lady on the other side, he said, “here you are. That’ll be four dollars,” before she placed the money on the counter beside his half-read newspaper and strolled passed you, out of the bakery, “have a good day!”
Leaning back down to return to his paper, Walter didn’t glance up at you as he greeted, “hi, honey! You wanna hear your horoscope for today?”
Tugging down the zipper of your jacket, you joked self-reflectively as you began to shed your layers, “does it say that I’ll miraculously turn into a charming and charismatic adult instead of whatever this is?”
“…uh… no,” he furrowed his brow and finally shot you a brief glance, “it says that you're energized and creative. This new moon initiates two weeks of growing work, health and strength. Put your heart into your actions. Practice makes perfect. Oh, and it also says right here that the spelt flour bin needs refilling and that there are about a billion cardamom buns that need to be shaped.”
“Oh, it says all of that, does it now?”
Letting a tense breath go, you apprehensively let your fist meet the dark door in three shy knocks.
As soon as it swung open, the sentence, “do you like croissants?” sputtered out passed your lips.
Head reeling back slightly at the unforeseen and sudden question, Matt blinked, “what?”
“Do you like croissants?” you repeated as if it wasn’t strange to just blurt out something like that out of the blue.
“Uh,” a smile then crept up on his lips, “hello to you too, Y/n.”
“I mean, I’ve personally never met anyone who doesn’t care for them, but I’m sure they exist.”
“Sure, I like croissants.”
“Oh, great, wonderful!”
Leaning against his door, his head tilted as you failed to continue, “…did you just have a burning desire to know that fact about me?”
“Right, no, I–, uhm, there were a bunch leftover today that we didn’t sell, so purely just to not let any go to waste, I thought you’d like some,” you held up the crinkly paper bag for him to hear.
It had been a lie, but he didn’t have to know that you’d set some aside for him before they all sold out, just to have an excuse to talk to him again.
“Oh, thank you,” he held out his open palms, “that’s so nice of you.”
As you handed the bag off into his grasp, you felt as if your heart might beat straight out of your chest.
“…alright, well…” you stumbled slightly, “I should probably head off to bed. Weekends are always the busiest, so my shifts are usually really long and I have to get up like super early, so... goodnight then!”
And with that you awkwardly whirled around and scurried the short distance into your own apartment, only faintly catching his warm chuckle as you disappeared.
“Night.”
© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble
#lea’s writing#buttercup series#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock imagine#matt murdock fanfiction#matt murdock fanfic#matthew murdock imagine#matt murdock x y/n#matt murdock x you#daredevil x reader#matt murdock series#matthew murdock x reader#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock angst#matt murdock hurt/comfort
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The Devil at Your Window |3: A Show of Trust|
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 6.9k
Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty
Series Installment List & Summary
a/n: Nothing like an injured, soaking wet black suit Matt... Feedback is always appreciated!
Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala @1988-fiend @haruari @sleepysleepymom
The voices on the television show you'd been watching gradually began to blur together into a soft hum as your lazy Saturday night wore on late into the evening. Heavy rain pelted against your apartment windows, the night surprisingly just warm enough for it instead of the snow the city had been getting in abundance. You hoped most of the snow would be melted by tomorrow with how much it had been raining today, already tired of winter and ready for spring despite it still only being January.
The sound of heavy droplets rhythmically battering against the glass windows of your apartment only began to further lull you into a relaxed state on your couch, cozy and warm beneath your blankets. Eventually your eyelids began to feel heavy, inevitably beginning to slowly lower until they dropped closed. A few times you caught yourself beginning to doze off on your couch and your eyes flew back open, your body giving a slight jolt along the cushions. Though gradually they began to drop shut once more until you fell into a light sleep.
It was at the sound of loud, frantic pounding that you woke with a startle on your couch. Your eyelids flew open, your heart racing in your chest at the abrupt, harsh noise that had disturbed your peaceful night. You laid there on the cushions disoriented, wondering how long you’d fallen asleep for and what time it currently was as you squinted at your television.
Another series of rapid banging had a gasp slipping out of you, your body sitting bolt upright on the couch. Your head spun in the direction of the noise only to spot the Devil once again standing on your fire escape. Except unlike the previous time he’d stopped by a few days ago, he was bent in half with an arm wrapped across his abdomen, clutching his side. From the faint light of your television screen illuminating him out on the fire escape, you could see the painful twist of his mouth.
He’d gotten hurt tonight. There was no denying it with the way he was carrying himself like that.
Throwing the blankets off of yourself in a rush, you rose to your feet, turning off the television before darting straight to the window. Your hands moving quickly, you undid the locks before pushing it up. Droplets of freezing rain immediately pelted you in the face and you tried to blink them from your lashes.
“Why the hell are you out in this?” you asked him, shouting loud enough to be heard over the rain as you stepped to the side. “Get in here!”
The Devil didn’t utter a single cocky remark this time to your surprise. Instead, he began to climb through the opening of your window as you headed over to the nearby lightswitch, flipping it on so you both could see better. At the sound of him emitting a hiss of pain between his teeth, you spun back around just in time to watch him drop to your worn wooden floors in a sopping wet heap.
“Shit!” you cursed.
In a hurry you sprinted back over, pausing only briefly to quickly slam your window shut, blocking the rain back out of your apartment once more. Then you dropped to your knees roughly, the fabric of your sweatpants absorbing some of the water that had already begun to puddle around him. The Devil continued to lie on his side, his mouth hanging open as loud, ragged breaths left him. You cringed at the sight of him lying there, suddenly feeling panicked and helpless.
“What happened?” you asked him. “Are you okay? Do you need a hospital or a–a doctor?”
“No,” he grunted out instantly. “No hospitals.”
You grimaced, your hands darting out to help him only to hover over his body where he lay in a heap before you. Eyes flying wildly around him, you did your best to search for any sign of injury, but you couldn’t seem to spot anything besides his soaking wet clothes now clinging to him even tighter than when they were dry. You couldn’t seem to spot any bleeding, either–there at least wasn’t any blood on your floor–but with how damp his clothes were and how dark the fabric was, it was impossible to know for sure.
“Well I don’t know how much medical knowledge you think I have,” you told him with a nervous laugh, “but it only extends to things I can fix with a bandaid. And I’m guessing that’s not what’s– shit !”
The Devil rolled onto his back before you with a loud, pained groan, entirely cutting you off. Eyes wide in panic, your hands still hovered uselessly above him. His breathing was labored as he lay in the growing cold puddle of water he was making on your floor.
“What's wrong?” you asked in a rush. “How can I help?”
“Baseball bat,” he breathed out, voice hoarse.
You watched as his left hand lowered to his side, his mouth curling into a painful grimace as he gestured along the length of it. He’d gestured to the entire length of his ribcage, where each bone was unmistakable with how skin tight the wet fabric was on him. And while you weren’t a doctor, it appeared like something seemed off in one of the spaces. Had he broken a rib?
"Just–just needed somewhere safe,” he continued, breath still coming in sharp. “To try to heal. Barely–”
A hiss of pain escaped his lips, his head rolling back along your floor. You began to gnaw on your bottom lip, your heart still hammering away frantically in your chest. Your body was still in a state of panic as you sat there on your soaked knees, not sure how to help the masked man before you.
“Barely made it here,” he finished.
Still nervously gnawing your bottom lip, you shook your head, unsure of how you were supposed to help him. “Why come to me? I’m not a medical professional, Devil!”
An amused huff of laughter broke on yet another wounded noise from him next. Worry only further filled you as you glanced back down at his ribs. Something definitely didn’t seem quite right.
“I can–can heal myself,” he began, voice still strained. “Sort of, at least. I just–just need somewhere quiet to meditate.”
“ Meditate ?” you asked in shock, the word flying out of you. “You’re going to meditate ? I don’t know if you know this, Devil, but yoga is not the answer right now! You need a hospital!”
Something like a smile faintly pulled at the corners of his mouth–the first one you’d seen on him this whole time. Somehow that only worried you further. Had he gotten hit in the head with that baseball bat, too?
“No, not yoga,” he told you. “But that was–was cute.”
Your brows jumped up onto your forehead, your jaw once again dropping. Hands falling back down to your sides, you sat there dumbfounded with this man once more. Who the hell was he?
“I’m sorry, are you flirting with me?” you asked him. “While you’re literally lying in pain on my apartment floor soaking wet from freezing rain? With most likely a broken rib?” You shook your head, beginning to rise back up to your feet. “Okay, I’m calling you an ambulance, you probably have a concussion and there’s–”
Something caught your wrist and you paused from your place halfway risen from the floor. Glancing down, you spotted a black gloved hand holding onto you with just enough strength to catch your attention. Slowly your eyes rose back up to where you figured his were behind the wet black mask. His head had rolled along the floor towards you, a despairing look on the lower half of his face.
“Please,” he pleaded softly. “Don’t. Just–just trust me. Please?”
For a moment you stood there in an awkward sort of crouch, your bottom lip once again caught between your teeth. You scanned him over as he lay there on his back, your eyes inevitably landing on that space where you assumed he’d broken a rib. Flinching, you focused back on his face, his hand still holding your wrist.
“Please,” he tried again. “I just need maybe twenty minutes. Then I’ll head to my place. I know someone who can help me better when I get there.”
“Then why not call them now? Or why not go there instead?” you asked him.
One corner of his lip twisted upward in something like a sheepish smile. “You were closer,” he answered softly. “And I’d rather not risk outing myself by bringing you both together.”
Eyelids falling shut, you pinched the bridge of your nose with your other hand. Gradually you felt him release your wrist as you tried to think through this situation. Everything inside of you was screaming to ignore him and to call an ambulance. If his rib was broken there was no way he was going to just walk out of here in twenty minutes feeling better.
But maybe there was something different about him. Like those other superheroes. Truthfully, you’d always wondered with every news story you’d heard about The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Could there be something special about him? Like an ability to heal himself?
Blowing out a rough breath, you lowered your hand from your face and focused back on him. “You can meditate to heal?” you asked him carefully. “You’re not–not shitting me, are you? Because if you need a hospital I’d rather you go to one and not like, die on my floor or something.”
“I’m not going to die,” he assured you. “I can heal. Not completely, but enough. It’s…a sort of skill I learned a long time ago.”
“Seems like a pretty useful fucking skill,” you muttered to yourself, catching the small smile on his lips. “Okay, well you’ve got to be freezing with those wet clothes. Do you want some blankets?”
“I am incredibly cold actually,” he admitted, that sheepish grin returning. “Fighting the urge to start shivering is becoming quite difficult. But I was actually hoping for a favor if it wouldn’t make you too uncomfortable.”
Your eyes narrowed back at him curiously. “And what favor would that be?” you asked him.
“I need to be able to focus when I meditate,” he told you, grimacing as he spoke. “And let’s just say, for me, that’s hard to do with–with cold, wet clothes on my skin.”
It took you a moment to process what he was saying, your mind initially focused on trying to understand what he had meant by telling you that focusing would be hard for him to do with wet clothes on his skin, as if there was something more to it than discomfort. But then suddenly you caught what he’d meant. Breath catching in your throat, your eyes grew wide. Did he want you to take his clothes off?
“So you…” you began hesitantly, voice trailing off.
“Yeah,” he answered, an awkward chuckle falling out of him before it broke off on a gasp of pain. “But it’s not exactly easy for me to move, so I’d–I’d need some assistance getting the shirt and pants off.”
Swallowing hard, your eyes traveled down from his masked face and back towards his body. His very toned, very attractive body that you’d thought about a few times in a not so appropriate way since his last visit. And here he was, injured and asking you to take his clothes off in your apartment. Licking your lips, you tried to fight the heat that suddenly sparked low in your stomach–this wasn’t the time or place for that.
“If you’re uncomfortable with that, don’t worry about it,” he told you when you’d remained silent. “I understand. I can just–just try to work around it, it’ll just be more difficult.”
Shaking your head slowly, you told him, “No, no I can help. I just wasn’t exactly expecting you to show up injured and wanting to get naked at my place tonight.”
The smile you’d come to know him for returned to his face, the sight of it a minor relief. It eased your panic and fear a little, at least.
“Well I’m not asking you to take off the mask or the boxers,” he pointed out. “So I’m not really getting naked here tonight.”
“So the Devil wears boxers and not briefs?” you teased, hoping to hide your nerves with humor as you settled back down on the wet floor beside him again. “Guess you’ve answered a much-asked question for the masses of Hell’s Kitchen tonight.”
“Boxer briefs, if you want to be technical,” he replied, still grinning slightly. “But you’d have figured that out on your own soon enough, I imagine.”
Biting the inside of your cheek, you felt the heat beginning to creep up your neck at his comment. You knew he meant it in the way that you’d find out because you’d be taking his pants off to help him get warm and ‘heal’ with his meditation somehow, but still, you couldn’t help but wonder if it could’ve had another meaning.
“And does that mean you’re part of the masses wondering what I wear under this?” he asked, breaking you from your thoughts.
Cheeks flaming, you laughed a little nervously. “Now I’m really starting to think someone got you in the head with that baseball bat, too,” you replied. Clearing your throat, you tried to switch the topic back to the situation at hand. “So how am I supposed to…manage this, exactly? I imagine moving is painful, but I have a feeling your clothes aren’t going to just come right off with you being this wet.”
A rumbling laugh came from him, the sound mixed with pained groans and gasps as his rib clearly ached and protested the movement. Brows knitting together, you shot his masked face a concerned look.
“You should probably not be laughing right now,” you informed him. “Pretty sure that’s not helping. And it sounds painful.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just,” he began, a wheeze of laughter still coming from him, “in my experience, the opposite has always been true.”
This time your head tilted curiously to the side as you tried to work out what he meant. For a moment you sat there, replaying what you’d just said in your head. And then it hit you and your face flamed even further.
“Oh my God!” you shrieked, fighting the urge to slap his very solid thigh beside you. “It is not the time for this!”
His laughter subsided, but the grin remained on his lips. “I’m sorry, you’re entirely right. I’m not trying to make you more uncomfortable,” he apologized. “I’ll stop and focus. Promise. You’re just cute when you get flustered like that. I truly appreciate your help though, Miss…?”
You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him. “Absolutely not the time for that, either,” you scolded him, doing your best to ignore how he’d once again called you ‘cute.’ “So focusing on the task at hand here, I’m guessing for this ‘meditation’ that you do, you sit up for that, right? Not just…lay in a heap on the floor?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Generally.”
“Okay,” you began slowly, your cheeks still feeling like they were burning as your eyes trailed down every visible muscle along his chest beneath his wet shirt before landing on his belt buckle. “I suppose that means removing your pants first would be the best course of action,” you mused aloud. “Probably easier to remove with you, you know, laying down as opposed to sitting.”
“Probably,” he answered, a hint of a smile in his tone.
You sat there hesitating for a few seconds, your gaze still on his belt buckle as silence filled your apartment. You could practically feel his attention on you, the hair on the back of your neck raising. It wasn’t like you’d never undressed someone before, but generally all of those situations were vastly different from this one. It wasn’t like you were taking off his pants so that you could sleep with him, yet somehow sitting here, staring at him on your floor like this–especially after the comments he’d just made–had this moment feeling oddly and unexpectedly intimate. Even with his injured side.
“So uhm,” you said, pausing to wet your lips, eyes still focused on his belt buckle, “I’ll just start there. I guess.”
“Here,” he murmured.
His gloved hands rose up from his sides, reaching down and working to unclasp his belt buckle. It was so quiet in your apartment as his hands worked that you could hear the clink of the metal as he undid it. Swallowing hard and trying to control your wildly beating heart, you watched as those gloved hands deftly undid the button of his dark pants next. The slide of his zipper downward afterwards was even audible as you sat there beside him, trying hard to think about anything other than how you wished his pants were coming off under different circumstances.
“If you could help get them off the rest of the way,” he said, his voice drawing you back to the moment, “that’d help. I can’t exactly sit up and take them off at the moment or I’d do it myself.”
Blinking hard a few times, you nodded. “Right,” you answered. “Yeah, of course. I’ll just–just…yeah.”
Something like a breath of amusement passed his lips as his hands dropped back to the floor at his sides. Your stomach began to twist nervously, realizing he was waiting for you to take his pants off now.
Leaning forward, you carefully gripped the fabric of his pants on either side of his hips. They were incredibly cold to the touch, the realization of which helped ease some of that growing heat of your own because he had to be freezing right now. Though as you began to tug the black, wet pants down his thighs, trying your hardest to be gentle as you heard him gasp out, you realized this wasn’t going to be remotely easy or fast.
To put it lightly, the Devil certainly filled out his clothes.
With a hiss of pain he arched his back along the floor, allowing you to pull his pants down just beneath his ass after much effort. You muttered an apology, trying to focus your hardest on not hurting him further as you began to peel the soaked fabric down his thighs next. It took every ounce of your willpower to not stare at the way his damp, black underwear clung to him, revealing what was hidden beneath the fabric as you pulled his dark pants downwards past a particular appendage.
As you continued to tug the wet pants down the lower half of his thighs, you became increasingly aware of the way your fingertips were dragging along the length of bare skin on his legs. The dark wisps of his hair brushed against your fingers and you grit your teeth, trying hard to remain focused on what you were doing and not how you were gradually beginning to feel.
He quite possibly has a broken rib , you reminded yourself, trying to focus on pulling each pant leg down past his muscular calves. Stop it. He is injured. This isn't sexual. This isn't sexual.
After having removed his boots, leaving his socks on which were thankfully dry, you managed to pull his pants entirely off of him a minute later. You tossed the rumpled ball off to the side of you where they landed along your wood floor with a soft, wet thump .
“Okay,” you said, attention returning to his face. “So maybe we should sit you up–even though that goes against everything inside of me if you do have a broken rib–so that I can get your shirt off?”
The Devil nodded, his gloved hands landing flat on the floor at his sides before he abruptly pushed himself upright, something like a distressed growl escaping between his clenched teeth as he moved. Your hands immediately darted forward, landing on his shoulders as you tried to steady him before you.
“Shit, I didn’t mean you had to do it like that ,” you chastised. “I could have helped you!”
“Well,” he breathed out, a grimace on his mouth, “little too late for that.”
Attention dropping down, they landed on his gloved hands. Those, too, were wet. And with how tight his shirt was, there was no doubt in your mind that you were going to have to remove those before removing his shirt.
“Okay, gloves next, then your shirt,” you told him.
He obediently held up his left hand first, holding it out towards you. With far less hesitation than when you removed his pants, you began to undo the velcro strap around his wrist. The sharp tear of the velcro rang loud in your ears before you began to gently ease the glove off of his hand. Once you'd slid it off, dropping the glove onto the floor beside your knees, your eyes admittedly lingered on his hand for a few seconds longer than necessary, your own left hand still gingerly holding his wrist.
He had big hands. You also spotted a few cuts where his knuckles had clearly torn from fighting. You resisted the urge to run your fingers over the dried bloody marks, though the sight of them didn't stop you from wondering what his hands would feel like gliding up beneath your own shirt, scratching you lightly with the callouses you noticed on his palms and fingertips. Your eyelids briefly fluttered shut at what your imagination conjured up, imagining them on your skin far warmer than they currently were as his palms ran up your sides and delicately over your ribcage.
But then you abruptly reminded yourself of where you were and what was going on. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you released his wrist, though you noticed the very faint tilt of his head just before you did. Feeling embarrassed, you undid his other glove faster than the previous one before removing it. Gathering both gloves in your hands, you tossed them over to the side of you where they landed just beside his discarded pants.
Focusing back on him, you became aware that all that was left to do was to peel off his shirt now. Which would only end up revealing exactly all of that muscle you already knew was waiting beneath that thin black material. Your mouth felt like it was going dry at just the thought of seeing him even further undressed.
This isn’t sexual , you tried to remind yourself.
Sucking in a breath, your hands dropped down to the hem of his soaking wet shirt. Carefully you began to lift it up, still holding your breath as defined abdominal muscle after defined abdominal muscle revealed itself to you. You could feel the way your hands had begun to shake before you’d even managed to cautiously slip the wet material over his head, his arms raising up in an attempt to help you as he let out a faint grunt.
Sitting back on your damp knees, you discarded his shirt off to the side by the pile of his other soaked clothes on your floor. Though this time when you returned your attention back to the Devil before you, he was wearing only his damp mask, black boxer briefs, and some dry, black socks. Releasing the breath you’d been holding, you tried to keep your voice steady as you rose back up to your feet.
“I’ll grab you some blankets,” you told him. “To help you get warm.”
Heading back over to your couch, you did your best to calm your breathing and once more mentally remind yourself of the situation the pair of you were in. Surely if he caught you staring longingly at his body you'd scare him away considering how skittish he seemed despite his flirtations with you. Besides, he was injured . That wasn't how you should be feeling right now, even if his body looked chiseled out of marble as he sat on your floor.
Picking up the two blankets from your couch that you’d fallen asleep under not that long ago, you bundled them in your arms before turning back around. Making your way back towards the almost naked vigilante sitting on your floor, you noticed that he’d scooted away from the puddle of water he’d made, now sitting in a dry spot.
Stepping over to the side of him, you bent over and gingerly wrapped both blankets around his bare, broad shoulders. The Devil quickly grabbed onto the edges of them and hugged them tight around himself as he softly thanked you. You saw his body give a shudder just before he grit his teeth, a muscle flexing in his jaw as his mouth twisted in pain.
“Hopefully that helps,” you said, straightening up and taking a few steps backwards. You gestured a hand towards the pile of his wet clothes on your floor. “I can take those down to the laundry facility in my building,” you offered. “It’s just a couple of floors down. I could try to throw them in a dryer to dry them a little for you while you're here.”
The Devil’s mouth curled into a soft smile as he shook his head gently. “No, that’s alright,” he replied. “They’ll just get wet again the moment I step back outside because it's still raining. And if anyone in your building were to see you with them, I’m sure they’d begin to wonder. I hear my clothing is…quite recognizable.”
A frown settled on your face as you stared at the wet clothing he would inevitably have to dress back into. “Right, yeah,” you mumbled, nodding. “That makes sense, I suppose. Though maybe I could lend you an umbrella?”
The Devil laughed lightly, but you spotted the grimace on his mouth as your attention returned to his face. The frown only deepened on your face and you wished there was more you could do to help him right now. He was clearly trying to hide the fact that he was in a lot of pain.
“I appreciate the offer, but I need both hands to get around out there,” he explained. “An umbrella would just get in the way.”
Sighing in defeat, you awkwardly wrapped your arms over your chest and glanced down at your bare feet. Now that he was sitting on your floor almost entirely undressed, injured, and wrapped in your blankets, you didn’t know what you should do with yourself while he did…whatever it was that he needed to do.
“Should I just give you some privacy then?” you questioned softly. “For your meditation? Or…?”
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the Devil’s covered gaze drop down towards his lap. The movement appeared almost nervous, which had you glancing up curiously at his quiet form sitting there on the floor.
“Actually, could I ask one more favor?” he asked. “Even though I know I probably shouldn't.”
Gnawing the inside of your cheek, you wondered what he meant by that. But nevertheless, you were willing to offer him whatever help you could–within reason, of course. Because someone needed to make sure he was taken care of after everything he was always doing for this city. It was becoming increasingly obvious to you that he certainly didn't take care of himself to the extent that he needed to, and you still weren't convinced that he wasn't lonely and in need of someone on his side.
“What’s that?” you asked him.
“Could you, maybe–”
He broke off on a nervous laugh which quickly turned into a groan of pain yet again. You winced, taking an involuntary step towards him.
“Could you maybe help keep me warm?” he asked hesitantly. “While I meditate, I mean?”
Your eyebrows instantly flew up onto your forehead at the question, but it was the tone of his voice that had you even more surprised. He always appeared so cocky and self-assured when he'd been here with you, but right now he sounded almost uncertain and nervous.
“It's just, the blankets alone aren't quite that warm enough for me to properly focus any time soon and–”
“Okay,” you blurted.
Your quick agreement to his request surprised even yourself as you stood there, staring at the Devil’s parted lips, his explanation left unfinished. Arms hugging your chest tighter, you suddenly felt self-conscious. Had you really just agreed to cuddle him half naked now? And so easily?
“It's okay if you're uncomfortable,” he assured you. “I realize what I'm asking you is a bit much, considering the circumstances.”
“No, it's–it's fine,” you replied, cautiously making your way towards him. “You have dubbed me your favorite space heater after all.”
A soft smile pulled the corners of his lips upwards as he nodded slowly. He opened his arms, spreading them wide and revealing his almost naked body beneath the blankets he’d been wrapped up in. Both of his legs were crossed before himself as he patiently waited for you to join him beneath the blankets. The sight only had your nerves increasing yet again tonight, because this moment also felt far more intimate than it probably should have.
“How would it be best for me to uh, lend you my body heat?” you asked, trying to keep your voice from rising a few octaves as you came to a stop directly in front of him. “I don't know what you need to do to heal. I don’t want to be in the way or anything.”
“If it's not too uncomfortable for you, you can just sit on my lap,” he answered. “I need to really focus on myself and tune everything else out. So as long as you're sitting fairly still you won't bother me.” A sheepish smile reappeared on his face as he added, “And we sort of need to be close in order to actually share body heat. Like before.”
You nodded, though you didn’t completely agree with him about this being like last time. Because before when you'd both cuddled together for warmth he had been fully clothed.
“Right,” you murmured. “Just like before.”
You hesitated a second longer, eyeing the way he was still sitting cross-legged on your floor, his arms still stretched open for you. With a deep breath in, you lowered yourself down onto his lap without any further opportunity to overthink the situation. Moving carefully, you adjusted your position on his lap, trying hard not to hurt him as both of your legs straddled his hips. Facing him, your arms nervously wrapped around his bare waist, your hands awkwardly resting on his lower back. His skin was cold to the touch and you resisted the urge to rub your hands along him to warm him up. Surely that would be crossing a line.
The Devil’s arms wrapped the blankets around the pair of you once you'd settled, inevitably encircling you in a sort of embrace that drew you even closer to the front of himself. Your cheeks were on fire as you felt your chest brushing against his solid one. Just like the first time he'd appeared at your apartment and cuddled you for warmth, you were growing increasingly aware of your bra-lessness around him. Especially with the way your nipples were poking at the fabric of your sweatshirt each time they grazed his very firm chest. You desperately hoped he hadn't noticed. It was already difficult enough trying to ignore the feel of him beneath your ass because that wasn't helping you to keep your head right now, either.
“Is this okay?” you whispered.
The Devil cleared his throat, his face mere inches from yours now that you were in his lap. You were doing your best to focus on the picture on your wall just behind him because staring at his lips would only result in you embarrassing yourself further.
“Yeah,” he answered. “As long as you’re comfortable. I’m just going to try to focus–” he paused, clearing his throat a second time, “–so I’ll uh, need silence for a bit.”
“How long?” you asked.
You kept your eyes glued to the picture on the wall, trying to ignore the way his chest brushed against yours with his next inhale. Despite how cold he felt, you felt like your own body temperature was elevating.
“Twenty minutes?”
Your eyelids fluttered at that deep, gravely voice just beside your ear, his warm breath grazing the side of your neck. You were going to be sitting in his lap for the next twenty minutes trying to resist the urge to kiss him? To grind down against his cock that you were positive you could just partially feel beneath you? To not bury your face into the crook of his neck and breathe in the scent of him?
“Hopefully I’ll be able to concentrate,” he said, voice strained.
“Sorry,” you whispered back. “I'll try to sit still.”
Silence fell between the pair of you, but your mind quickly grew louder than the room around you. You kept having to remind yourself to focus on staying quiet and immobile because you were doing this to help the Devil. That was what you needed to focus on and nothing else.
Eventually, as an unknown length of time passed while you both sat there on your floor, you began to feel his body relax against yours, as if all the tension was beginning to gradually ease out of his muscles. His breathing became something steady and rhythmic, which was when your thoughts finally turned to something less inappropriate. Because instead of that blazing heat that had been building inside of you ever since he'd asked you to help remove his clothes, something softer and less intense began to fill you as you sat in his lap, your own body relaxing in turn against him.
Shifting your head to the side just a bit, your gaze moved from the picture on the wall back to his face beside yours. You imagined his eyes were closed beneath the black fabric now as he concentrated on whatever it was that he was doing. You wondered what color they were beneath all that black. Gaze lowering, you studied the strong line of his jaw, taking in the little hairs of his dark stubble. Eventually your gaze traveled towards his mouth, attempting to memorize the shape of his slightly parted pink lips. You could still feel each of his soft exhales brushing over your exposed neck. Each breath of his faintly tickled your skin as you gradually found yourself breathing almost in sync with him.
For a while that’s what you found yourself doing, silently observing him while you took soothing breaths that matched his own. You noticed the subtle shifts of his mouth as he sat quietly beneath you, the faint twitches of his arm muscles against your back. At a certain point you became aware of how warm his body had become, no longer as cold as when you’d first plopped into his lap.
You weren’t sure how much time had passed before he startled you with a very subtle movement. His head gradually lowered a few inches until his forehead came to rest against your shoulder. That unfamiliar warmth only grew inside of you, your heart fluttering in your chest at the unexpected display of his trust with you tonight. Smiling slightly, your own head tilted a little to the side, coming to rest against his as your own eyelids lowered.
You may not have known much about the mysterious masked vigilante who ran around the streets of the city at night, but you knew he had a good heart. Underneath the flirtatious comments and jokes was a man who deeply loved this city and the people in it. You just wished the city could give him literally anything back in return for the blood he clearly spilled for it.
You must have briefly fallen asleep wrapped around the Devil because when he began to shift beneath you, you startled awake. Eyes slowly blinking the sleep from them, you pulled back and glanced at his face still so close to yours. The Devil was wearing a pleased grin, the sight causing your stomach to twist into knots.
“Comfortable?” he teased.
“Shit, I'm sorry,” you apologized quickly, embarrassed. “It's just late and I'm tired, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you again.”
“It's okay,” he assured you, still grinning. “But maybe I should get dressed and let you sleep in your own bed now.”
“Oh,” you breathed out, disappointment creeping into you. “Right. So you're–you're done with your meditation thing?”
“I am,” he answered. “And feeling far better and warmer than before. So thank you.”
His arms unwrapped themselves from around you, the cold from your apartment suddenly hitting the back of you where you were no longer wrapped inside the blanket cocoon with him. Biting your lip, you carefully disentangled yourself from around him, your heart strangely sinking to your stomach as you did.
Almost immediately after you'd climbed out of his lap, the Devil rose back up to his feet in a smooth motion, barely wincing at the fluid movement. He balled your blankets in his hands, your eyes drawn to the pull of muscles on his arms and chest as he moved with ease, looking nothing like the man who'd collapsed on your floor in pain not that long ago. He tossed the balled up blankets smoothly past you where they landed perfectly on the back of your couch.
Afterwards he turned, crossing the few steps towards his pile of damp clothes still lying on your floor. With barely any show of pain, you watched as he bent down, grabbing his still wet pants and beginning to pull them on. You cringed as he began to pull them up his legs, aware they must’ve been cold and uncomfortable to dress back in, but a glance back at your window proved that it was indeed still raining. Even if you'd dried them he would've been soaked again in seconds.
“You're going to have that friend of yours check on you, right?” you asked him. “To make sure you're alright?”
The Devil looked over at you, his hands buckling the belt of his tight pants. That cheeky smirk was on his lips again, which must have meant he somehow really felt better, even if you couldn't possibly begin to comprehend how what he'd done had actually healed him.
“Still worried about me?” he questioned back. “I promise I'll be just fine. And yes, I'll have my friend give me a little check up, if that helps ease your mind.”
“It does,” you admitted.
Crossing your arms over your chest, you focused on the window you knew he was soon to slip back out of in an attempt to give him privacy as he dressed. That unfamiliar sinking feeling was back in your gut again, demanding attention. But you didn't have long to contemplate what it meant before the Devil was stepping into the space before you, now fully clothed in his attire once more. Except for his gloves, you noticed, which he was holding in his left hand.
“Thank you for your help once again tonight, angel,” he whispered.
His right hand reached out, unexpectedly and gently cupping your jaw. The pad of his thumb affectionately traced along the line of it with a tenderness you’d never felt before, stopping once it reached the corner of your lips. Feeling your heart skip in your chest at his touch and what he'd just called you, the question slipped right past your lips in a faint breath.
“Angel?” you asked.
His thumb remained beside your lips, a faint smile ghosting over his own beneath his still damp mask. “Well you won't tell me your name,” he replied quietly. “And you continually insist on helping the Devil despite how undeserving I am, so I think it only seems fitting.”
His thumb moved, just barely grazing your bottom lip. Your breath hitched, your face involuntarily inching forward towards his.
“Sleep well, angel,” he murmured.
Too dazed to even formulate a response, you stood there silently as his hand released your face. Turning around, he made his way towards your window, quickly sliding his gloves on before raising it back up. Without hesitation, he slipped through the opening and back out into the cold, rainy night.
By the time you'd recovered from whatever that moment had just been, he was already closing your window after himself. A small smile tugged at his mouth before he turned and dove over the side of your fire escape railing.
Heart still hammering erratically in your chest, your hand reached up, fingers gently touching the place his just had. Closing your eyes, you could almost recall the tender feel of them on you even now.
And that's when it made sense. You weren't just eager to help the masked man because of what he did for the city and how much of a hero you thought he was. And it wasn't just because you believed he didn't really have many others in this city to help him.
It was because you were beginning to feel something for him. Something more than just physical attraction despite not knowing his name or his face.
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock hurt/comfort#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock x you#matt murdock series#matt murdock#daredevil
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right here
pairing || soft!matt x fem!reader (comfort)
wc || <1k
summary || Matt comforts you during a depressive episode
warnings || depression & nudity (no details and not in a sexual way)
a/n || wanted to create something like this for a while, little self indulgent oops, will probably regret uploading it in the morning lmao. this felt way more intimate to write as appose to my smut. but if you relate, im sorry and i love you💌
masterlist + rules
taglist
*inspired by this gif*
Days like this were unbearable, the constant looming feeling; a dark gloomy relentless cloud that paralysed you. Your energy, or lack thereof, was something you had to preserve. You had to save it for mundane tasks that right now felt unattainable.
You spent most of the day rotting in bed, staring aimlessly at the wall, the pillow wet from your never-ending tears. You had been emotionally blocked for a couple weeks, but today, it was as if some awful button had been pressed that made you feel everything you had been blocking out.
You had been sitting in the corner of the shower for about forty minutes now, your legs curled up as you rested your chin on your knees. You thought you were able to manage it, but as soon as you started you just gave up. It made you hate yourself for not being able to do such an easy thing- but it really wasn’t that simple.
Silently choking on your sobs as the water ran down the front of your hair along your face. The steam of water felt like a bubble around your head like it blocked your ears finally making your mind quiet.
You didn’t even hear the front door open, nor the sweet greeting from the man you love.
Matt heard the shower running and instantly went to listen behind the door to check you were okay, considering that you usually reply to him when in the shower. His heart began to race once he realised the water had been making the same flow sound for over a minute- immediately thinking the worst.
He gently knocks on it, but with no reply, he knocks again but a little more eagerly this time. He values your privacy, but right now he just wanted to see if you were alright. Opening it, deflating inside when he realised what was going on.
Kicking off his shoes getting into the shower fully clothed, and sitting down next to you. He felt his heart crumble for you to be this way. Draping his arm over your shoulder while his other hand laces into yours, silently telling you that he’s not going anywhere.
He wrapped his arm around your head as if to shield your ears from the hateful words coming from your brain.
It was an unspoken understanding. Whenever you both felt this way, you’d be right there offering one another your support. Given the fact you both struggled with depression, in a sad way it made you understand each other in ways no other could.
Sitting together like that for a while in comfortable silence as the steady stream of water fell onto each of your heads. He waited for you to initiate the separation, not wanting to let you go too soon.
Lifting his hand that was still connected to yours, placing a delicate kiss on the back of it, as if to say ‘thank you’.
Matt took that as your sign to let go, he didn’t want to smother you or somehow make you feel worse. Releasing your head from his biceps, kissing the crown of your head as he cupped your cheeks.
Struggling to remove his soggy blazer, throwing it into the sink with a sigh. He delicately twisted you around so that you were facing away, sitting on his knees behind you. Picking up the shampoo bottle from the floor, gently lathering it into your hair. Rinsing and repeating, before carefully combing conditioner through your knotty hair. He began washing you with your loofah, being extra vigilant not wanting to distress you. Washing your face for you, as you sat there blankly. Rewarding you with a kiss on the forehead.
He reached over to grab the towel, wrapping you in it as if you were the most valuable thing on earth, sitting you on the toilet seat lid as he quickly washed himself.
Stepping out, he led you through the apartment to the bedroom, gesturing for you to take a seat on the bed. He quickly dried himself, throwing on some pyjama bottoms before he dug around for yours. Patting you dry, placing the t-shirt over your head and slipping your shorts on.
He knew you so well, that he knew what order to do your skincare. Following your routine, gently swiping everything onto your skin, before he dried your hair.
Carefully pulling you up the bed, he covered you both with the blankets, wrapping his arm around your head once more, allowing you to cuddle into him. Kissing your forehead again, stroking over your arm as he hummed you to sleep.
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock#daredevil#matt murdock x you#matthew murdock x reader#marvel fan fiction#it’s not a want it’s a need#matt murdock comfort
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the lakes - m. murdock
a/n: hey guys so i've been struggling a lot with the fact that i might have hearing loss (i'm going to the doctor next week) and as always i am projecting, but i am not 100% sure everything in this fic is accurate and for that i apologize. but it's my little passion project and i hope you enjoy <3 as always, comments and reblogs are always loved and appreciated!
warnings: hearing loss, hearing aids, tinnitus, reader struggling with being disabled, some parts are more vulnurable and don't have the reader being like overly confident in their disability, matt being soft, some suggestive behavior at the end, kissing, nicknames, pretty pg-13 honestly
word count: 3.0k
summary: your hearing aids run out of battery, and you're forced to struggle through a day of ringing ears and being deaf. matt helps, as he always does.
pairing: matt murdock x hard of hearing!reader
now playing: the lakes - taylor swift
"take me to the lakes/where all the poets went to die/i don't belong/but my beloved, neither do you."
“Are you deaf?”
“What?”
You’re eighteen, home from college for the first time since fall break. Your family sits around for Thanksgiving, and there are so many people talking. There’s about thirteen people at this long dining room table, and they are all talking at once. You’re sitting next to your sister, but you can’t hear her well.
You know she’s speaking, and you’re sure you’re yelling, but you’re frustrated.
“I said, are you deaf? I repeated myself like, four times!”
You feel your face flush.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you. You’re mumbling, and it’s loud in here.”
Your sister looks at you like you’re crazy.
“I’m right next to you, and I’m not mumbling. In fact, no one is yelling, either.”
You poke your fork at your sweet potatoes and feel hot, angry tears in your eyes as you avoid everyone’s gaze.
Your mom sits across from you, and frowns, planning to tell you to make an appointment at the student health center when you get back to campus.
She doesn’t even have to. You’ve booked one by the time she says it to you.
At the student health center, they administer a hearing test, and then refer you to a specialist for further testing. You call your mom, crying and she gently comforts you, before driving to the nearest bookstore and picking up a book on hearing impairments and a copy of ASL for Dummies.
At the specialist, they do another round of tests. Your doctor tells you that you do in fact have hearing issues and that you should come back in a year for more testing, to see if your hearing gets worse. For now, you get a doctor’s note that requires all your professors to take your hearing impairment into consideration. The process for getting that applied at your university is painful, and only gets worse through your years there.
Before you get to law school, your doctor tests you again, and tells you how your hearing has been decreasing in quality in the past few years. He says that you’ll need hearing aids to regulate it. You cry because you cannot afford that.
You get captioning accommodations throughout law school, as well as a note taker for certain classes that are entirely lecture based. You still try to take your own notes, but it frustrates you that suddenly you need all this help. Your own notes are incomprehensible and often miss key parts of the lecture as you sit for a few minutes trying to decipher what your professor had said a few minutes prior.
You go into corporate law after law school, choosing to stay out of court initially because you find yourself frustrated that you wouldn’t be able to process all of what’s going on due to the many voices.
You stay at this company long enough to get your hearing aids, long enough to pay your loans, and long enough to save up a good fund for your hearing aid needs.
You quit your job and get hired at Nelson, Murdock & Page as an interim while you decide what you want to do.
With your hearing aids, life isn’t so frustrating anymore. You find yourself enjoying casual chatter and not worrying about processing what your friends are saying. At family dinners, you take your hearing aids out when you’re mad at your family, to which your stepdad, another hearing aid user, always laughs.
And, despite the pay not being stellar at your job, you love it. You love working with people who need help, love fighting injustice, and you love your coworkers.
...
If only Matt Murdock would reciprocate your feelings towards him.
You’ve been dancing this dance for months. You come into work with coffee and stutter when you get to his doorway.
You wonder if he’ll ever know how desperately you want him.
You go about your days quietly, going to the bar with them at the end of a long week. You love your friends and find yourself hoping they know how much you love them.
Karen and Foggy, as well as Foggy’s fiancé, know about your hearing aids since they sit sort of clunkily on your ears.
You don’t tell Matt, though, not at first.
You know how bad it is, to not even tell your blind crush that you have hearing aids. But you’re embarrassed. It makes you sound like an old person even though you’re in your twenties.
But when Matt crawls into your window late at night, bleeding, you don’t even flinch as he crashes onto your floor behind you. You’re reading, your hearing aids out, and he’s unsure why you can’t hear him. Your heartbeat had no reaction, it’s like you don’t even realize he’s there.
He taps you on your shoulder and you turn quickly, and gasp, before starting to sign at him. Even in his disoriented state, he knows you’re doing something with your hands and moving your mouth. At first, he thinks that he might have stuff clogging his ears, but then he realizes you’re signing, probably because you think Daredevil isn’t blind.
He takes off his helmet.
“Matt?” You say, and it comes out a little louder than it should, because you can’t hear yourself to gage how loud you’re being.
He says something, and your gaze focuses on his mouth, where you can barely make out what he’s saying.
“I can’t hear you.” You say, softer now. You reach over to your bedside table and put your hearing aids on. By the time you look back, Matt has passed out on the ground. Oh fuck.
You get your first aid kit and begin to work on his wounds. When you’re done, you pull him onto your couch, now stained with his blood, and watch as he sleeps. Blood covers your hands, and you listen to him breathing.
When he wakes up that morning, you’re asleep on the couch, and when you feel him start to stir. You grab your hearing aids, and turn them on, before watching him wake.
He says your name softly, and you take his hand in yours.
“Hey.. You.. You’re Daredevil...”
“You’re deaf.”
“Hard of hearing. Not fully deaf, just… My right ear is a lot better than my left, but without my hearing aids I’m close to deaf, yeah…”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were Daredevil?”
“I was scared. Scared that… That you would view me differently, scared that you wouldn’t like me as much.”
“I was scared too..”
“When did you start losing your hearing?”
“In college. I realized it when I went home for Thanksgiving, and then it got worse from there..” You tell him. A hand reaches out to your face, and you lean into it, letting your cheek rest in his palm. His fingers trail up towards your ear and gently run his fingers over your hearing aid.
“Thanks for stitching me up.” He says softly.
“No problem.”
“The hearing aid does explain the buzzing I always hear when you’re around.”
“You can hear my hearing aids?”
“Apparently. I can hear a lot of things. I have heightened senses. You use pomegranate shampoo and had red velvet cake for dessert tonight. Your heart is racing.”
Your face flushes.
“I can turn them off if it’s bothering you.”
“How would you hear me, then?” He has a point.
“I just don’t want them to bother you.”
“Don’t offer to hide your disability just to make other people more comfortable.”
You kiss him when he says this, in a careful way. You’re gentle, making sure not to hurt him as you do. He lays there and lets you kiss him, his hands on your face. You realize you had no reason to be scared that Matt might reject you for your disability, because he is the only person in your everyday life who really gets how it is to have a disability that affects all aspects of your life.
You trace the healed scars on his skin as you kiss him gently, careful not to hurt him. You promise that you’ll kiss him more passionately when he isn’t freshly stitched up.
• • •
A few weeks passed after that night. You and Matt start seeing each other more and more as you fall deeper in love. You find it silly that you wasted so many days, afraid of talking to each other and maybe disappointing each other over the fact that you both lack a vital sense.
But Matt never views it that way. You wear hearing aids and it’s perfectly fine because most of the time, you aren’t struggling to hear him and cannot communicate with him, and he can’t see when you can’t hear him.
Instead, Matt loves that he can hear your hearing aids buzzing softly because it always alerts him that you’re there. He can hear your heartbeat and smell you, too, but it’s not quite the same as this soft little buzzing that reminds him often of a bee.
Except for this one day.
You slept over at Matt’s on a Thursday and really, you should have known better. You knew your hearing aids were going to need a battery change soon, but you’ve been so busy with work and with Matt, and worrying about him at night, that you’re tired. So tired that you forget to pick up batteries before your hearing aids die.
You sneak out of Matt’s apartment early, sending him a text that you needed to go get changed before work. Really, you want to avoid the fact that you wouldn’t be able to hear him. But he didn’t respond to your message. You decide that you don’t care at this moment and head out to work, debating the right way to tell your coworkers about your predicament.
When you get to work, Foggy is immediately talking to you, and you are tense.
“Foggy—” He’s not stopping. It sounds like he’s mumbling, and there’s this ringing in your ears. “Foggy, I can’t hear you.” He finally looks to you, and says something, you make it out to be a phrase of confusion. “My hearing aids died.” You tell him. You’re frustrated, and Matt isn’t in the office yet.
You deem this as a blessing and a curse. Foggy goes to tell Karen what’s going on and as you’re settling down for the day, you get a text. You hope it’s from Matt, but when you see Karen’s name, you falter slightly.
‘Hey! Foggy told me what was going on. We’ll have your calls redirected to one of us and you can spend the day doing housekeeping and paperwork.’
‘Thanks’, You respond, “Sorry about all this. I’m usually on top of my battery life.”
“Don’t worry about it. These things happen.”
“Still, thanks. Did you hear from Matt at all?”
“No, he probably just slept in late. He should be in soon.”
You try to ignore your anxieties over his absence even though you know that when he does come into the office, you’ll have to struggle to communicate with him all day.
So, for the first hour or so of your day, you try to get some work done but there’s a light ringing in your ears that’s getting worse and worse as you attempt to try and focus on other things. Everything sounds so muffled. You’re so focused that your teeth grind against each other, your muscles tense, as you attempt to try and block out the ringing in your ears.
You have a feeling that by the time you leave today, those hot frustrated tears will be threatening to pour once more.
You don’t hear Matt as he steps into your office and stands by your left side, where you’re almost completely deaf. He stands there for about ten minutes, trying to get your attention before he realizes the light buzzing of your hearing aids are not there.
You must not have them in.
So his hands find your shoulders gently, and instead of tensing, you actually relax under his touch, because you realize that it has to be Matt. A slight turning of your head confirms it and you lean into his touch.
Neither of you say much for a while, deciding to let your frustration slowly dissipate as you lean into his warm hands. They stay on your shoulders and upper arms, rubbing gentle patterns into your skin.
After a good ten minutes of this, his body shifts to your right side and he leans down, before speaking at full volume, maybe even a little louder, just to make sure you can hear him. It still sounds like he’s mumbling, but you can hear him.
“Forgot your hearing aids?”
“Batteries died.” You tell him. “You never answered me.”
“My phone died. I forgot my charger, too.. Are you gonna be okay to work all day?”
“Mhm..” You smile softly, “You’re gonna have to help answer calls, though.”
He kisses your cheek, and you lean into the warmth.
“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He says, a soft smile on his face.
The day goes by pretty much as you expect it. You spend it doing paperwork and dodging phone calls, your tinnitus gets worse as the day goes on. By the time the day is finally winding down, Karen sends you one final text.
“Matt’s staying a little late to catch up on some work. Want me to walk you home?”
“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
You realize that because she and Foggy are heading home, you’ll be able to sit with Matt, maybe get a little bit of peace. You’re thankful, too, because you’re about to lose your mind over all of this. The ringing is just getting to be too much.
You wait a few minutes after Foggy and Karen head home before you go into Matt’s office. He smiles at you and gestures for you to come in, and you do. You lean against his desk, as he speaks loud enough now that you can hear him.
“I’ll just be a few more minutes, Bee.” Even the soft-spoken nickname doesn't get you out of your funk, too busy wanting to get on your hands and knees and beg God for your hearing back.
That doesn’t usually happen, but every once in a while you ask him for a normal life.
God sends you a blind man as your soulmate, because he must think that the whole thing is quite funny.
“Okay…”
You feel hot tears pooling in your eyes as you bite your tongue and dig your fingernails into your skin. You almost draw blood.
“What’s wrong?” He can tell that something is wrong. He can always tell, and you’re foolish to think anything less of him, and even more foolish to forget his super senses. A part of you bites back a bitter feeling, since you wish you could’ve had super smell, super sight, super taste, anything in exchange for your hearing. You were not given an exchange, only forced to give, with nothing in there for you.
You forget that your boyfriend has super senses and can taste and smell your salty tears and blood in the air. Damn him.
“Loud… Ringing in my ears, my tinnitus is always really bad when I don’t use my hearing aids for a while..” You say softly. “It’s just.. it really hurts...” You confess, tears slipping down your face.
“Sweetheart..” He takes off his glasses and rests them on the desk in front of him. “C’mere..” You can’t hear that last part, but the way he opens his arms gives you the hint.
You sit on his lap, burying your face in the crook of his neck with a shaky sigh. You feel the thumps of his heartbeat and hold onto it, the ringing in your ears slightly muffled by his skin. It doesn’t fix the problem, but it helps.
His hands linger on your body, gentle caresses of your knee or thigh happening here and there. He just wants you to know he’s there, in the same way he desires when everything becomes too much for him.
“”m sorry..” you say gently, and he just hushes you softly, kissing your head. He traces patterns into your skin. He traces words into it as well.
L-O-V-E.
S-W-E-E-T-H-E-A-R-T
He traces your name, his, and your last names.
You kiss him softly, realizing that you might never be 100% okay with your hearing, but Matt will help. He’ll understand. He loves you, and it’s enough to be confident in your future again.
You spend only a few minutes more in the office before you decide to head home, his hand never leaving yours.
You make it back to his apartment and Matt plugs his phone in in case you need to text him and get his attention. You wind up stealing a pair of sweatpants, a tee shirt, and a pair of fuzzy socks. The two of you wind up tangled together on his couch.
Your ear is pressed against his chest as he gently caresses your skin, occasionally moving your hair from your face. He mumbles sweet nothings, and while you can’t hear them, you feel the rumbling vibrations in his chest, and you relish in them. You bathe in the feeling of his heartbeat thumping against his skin.
You fall asleep like this, with Matt touching you and talking in this low tone to make sure you can feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest and in his throat. It’s enough just knowing he’s there. That this thing you thought would deem you unlovable is no match for Matt Murdock, who on your wedding day will throw up the sign for ‘I love you’ in ASL.
For Matt Murdock, who, when you’re taken for loving the devil, will find you and take you into his arms and kiss you so that you know he’s real.
For Matt Murdock, who touches you in all the right ways so you can hear the sounds of your own pleasure.
For Matt Murdock, who will gently trace patterns into your skin when you need to be grounded. For Matt Murdock, who feels himself slipping further and further in love with you and finds himself searching for the soft buzz of your hearing aids when you walk into the room.
#matt murdock#matt murdock fic#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x y/n#matt murodock hurt/comfort#matt murdock angst#matt murdock imagine#daredevil fic#daredevil x reader#daredevil fanfiction#hoh!reader#hard of hearing!reader#deaf!reader#self indulgent
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Daddy Issues | Matt Murdock x Reader
Masterlist
Inspired by this song.
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader
Summary: There are some scars from our childhoods that just won't heal, like daddy issues will somehow always affect our relationships, especially with men. It's the trauma that makes us afraid. Matt Murdock is a considerate boyfriend and he hardly ever raises his voice, so when he lets his anger out on you, he triggers something in you that you have never told him about.
Warnings: Angst, mentions of child abuse, daddy issues (not the sexy kind), childhood trauma, yelling, crying, small injury (reader cuts her finger), not proofread
A/n: This is entirely self-indulgent. I won't tell you why exactly, but let's just say today was not a good day and I needed to write this to feel better. It helped, for the most part. If you have/had a father who yells a lot and likes to blame you for everything, this is for you. But also basically everyone who's afraid of men yelling at you because you've been traumatized before. This has not been proofread or beta-d. It’s just a silly little comfort fic.
Tags: (people who answered the original idea and I think would enjoy this or asked to be tagged)
@igotanidea @lina-mar @redzie02 @hellskitchens-whore
[not my gif, credits to the owner mentioned under the gif]
In the heat of the moment, some people raise their voices. May it be a fight or a moment of excitement. When we get angry, we often resort to a louder volume and sometimes even verbal abuse. We say things we don’t mean. We wouldn’t be human if that didn’t happen sometimes, although most fights can be resolved by talking civilly. There is no point in screaming when talking like adults is a viable option that won’t hurt anyone. But it hardly ever happens, not when both parties are already worked up to the point of no return.
For you, there has not been a fight or discussion in your life that hasn’t resulted in a screaming match. Your parents often yelled at each other. You grew up like this, the voices of your fighting parents constantly in the back of your head until the day they divorced. And even after that, you figure you started hallucinating their fights whenever the world went quiet around you so you would have some noise in the back of your head.
Your father was the one who screamed the most. He yelled and scolded you whenever you didn’t act according to his standards or made even the smallest of mistakes, didn’t do something or just used the wrong tone with him, something that often didn’t sit right with him.
He always resorted to screaming. The context never really mattered, he just got louder, harsher and he used words that would confuse every kid and make their tiny brains overflow with the guilt they caused. And when you cried, he only waved it off because “there is no reason to cry, I’m just stating the facts”.
It traumatized you in a way many children who grew up in such families understand, and he made you believe that every man in your life has a reason to yell at you, to use you, to abuse you and constantly ask you for things even though you can’t possibly match up to all of their expectations.
You always expect to be yelled at by the men in your life. Even the smallest hint of the disappointment in someone’s voice makes you anxious and more often than not, you start to cry. It’s your defense mechanism. You’re fragile and you get scared easily. A switch gets flicked and you’re suddenly standing in the same house you grew up in, letting your father rain hell down on you because you were too scared to fight back.
The constant screaming made you scared of men, and it made you more careful with what you say or do around others. You tread carefully. You try to please and not to screw up too much, too scared of the consequences and possible negative reactions. In school, you used to do the same, always wanting to please the teachers and when they raised their voices, you often excused yourself and were left shaking and crying in the bathroom.
Matt Murdock has always been a man with a heavy internal conflict, and that conflict resulted in anger issues and his ever-present catholic guilt. When you met him, he came across as attractive yet dominant, and that scared you a little until you talked for the first time in the middle of a cozy coffee shop and he showed how soft of a man he actually is. He keeps himself locked away and that might make him seem unapproachable, but he isn’t. He’s the kindest man you have ever met, and his heart is set right. Out of all the lovers you’ve had, he is truly the best and most considerate when it comes to your relationship.
He treats you like you’re the universe to him and when you fight, it’s more often bickering than it is an exchange of vulgarities and screams. He takes his anger out on punching bags, not you, and when he hurts someone, it’s often criminals who deserve his wrath. His life is complicated, but it’s easier with you in it. He feels alive, he’s told you, and he wouldn’t trade that for the world, so he always makes sure you’re taken care of and happy before he looks after himself.
There is, of course, the issue with his enhanced senses. He’s blind but his senses are enhanced to an extent that most blind people don’t have. You found out about that early on in your relationship, but there’s never been a doubt in your mind about the love you feel for him, so it was no hard choice to stay.
Though dating the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its collection of issues. More often than not you have to stitch him up or search him in dark alleys and trash cans because he keeps getting in trouble, and the worry often eats you alive. Still, you comfort him when he’s had a bad day, always, and you make him the spotlight of your life every time. In your mind, taking care of him comes first.
But Matt always gives back. It’s his Catholicism, you’re sure of that. He can’t take help. He has to be the one doing the work and moving mountains. He is God’s disciple and he feels responsible for his city and the people living in it. His blindness feels like a gift given to him by God to conquer all possible battles, and while you don’t really believe in God, you have accepted that part of him with open arms and more often than not join him in his faith because life with him is surely not the easiest.
When Matt Murdock feels overwhelmed, he tries not to show it. He’d rather lock himself away than burden you. He’d rather struggle on his own than put the people he loves in danger or hurt them with his personal struggles and the pain that consumes him.
Matt is patient and he doesn’t care if you screw up, even though you apologize profusely most of the time. He’s patient because we’re all human. We all screw up. That is the principle that he lives by and he makes you feel like you can be more of yourself around him. So after a year, there are no more reservations and you feel a lot more comfortable in your skin.
Until this day, he had never let his anger out on you, and he had never opened his mouth to yell at you in any way. Until that day.
He’s different when he comes home. He finds himself at his wit's end, and he has been ever since that godforsaken murder trial started. When he comes home, you don’t think much of his distance toward you, the denial of a proper kiss, and his grunts as he lowers himself on the couch instead of asking you about your day. You don’t think much until it all goes wrong, and you’re not even sure at what point it does or what you did to deserve this, but there has to be a reason because the man you’re seeing right now is not the Matt you usually get to see.
We all have bad days sometimes, others more often, but this seems deeper than just a bad day at the courthouse. This is not the face of an exhausted man after a long work day that just needs some kisses and maybe a blowjob, or to have sex with his girlfriend in all his dominant glory with aftercare to put the cherry on top. This is not Matt Murdock, this is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen that comes through the front door, tosses his cane into a corner, and then just falls on the couch like a wet sack of potatoes, his fists clenched as if he is ready to explode any second.
You’ve been taught to tread carefully, so you do. You approach him only slowly because you are worried, you always are. Perhaps it’s the line of questioning that has him exploding in no time.
“You okay?” you ask.
He props his feet up on the living room table and huffs. “Fine,” he says.
“You don’t look fine. Did something happen?”
You’ve brought him a glass of water, which he takes with a curt nod. Something is bothering him, but he won’t talk to you.
“Bad day at work?”
“It doesn’t matter now. I’m fine. I just want to forget that today ever happened.”
“You want some coffee?” you decide to ask instead.
“No,” he says.
His leg starts to bounce. It only does when he is agitated or overstimulated and is trying to deal with the world around him.
“Do you want me to run you a bath?”
He sighs. “No.”
“We still have leftovers, maybe I could warm them up.”
His tone is harsher this time, “No!”
You blink, a little taken aback by the force in his voice and involuntarily, you start to shake.
“I just want to be alone,” he adds, softer this time. “Can you… you know what, I’m just gonna get changed.”
And like that, he is gone. He disappears into the bedroom and you’re left flabbergasted. You want to ask what’s wrong, but you’re scared. You’ve never been scared of him before. It’s not him, it’s his reaction, and so you retreat into the kitchen.
Eventually, he comes out again, though he is still missing a shirt. “Have you seen my Columbia sweater?” he asks, the lights of the billboard reflecting off his marble skin.
“It’s in the washer,” you tell him.
“Why?”
“Because it’s dirty. Matt, what is going on?” You place your mug down and look at him, eyes soft and full of concern.
He only rolls his. “I just want my sweater.” Grabbing the used shirt from the chair at the dinner table, he slips it on. It’s not the fabric he wanted and he tenses up, hating the new sensation already.
“Are you sure this is about your sweater? You’ve been on me ever since you got in.”
“Yes, because you keep asking useless questions.”
“Useless?” You scoff. “So my interest and worry for you are useless?”
If there is one thing you have gotten good at it has to be defending yourself.
He brushes past you to get a beer from the fridge. “I told you, I’m fine.” He is good at brushing you off because he doesn’t like to admit when he feels weaker than usual.
“You don’t look fine.”
“Oh, my God, then stop fucking looking!”
“Okay, what the hell is your problem?”
He scoffs. “You don’t get it.”
“What don’t I get?”
“Everything.”
“Enlighten me then.”
“It’s not…” his chuckle is bitter. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re gonna keep seeing problems where there are none, so talking to you makes no sense anyway.”
What did he just say? You are so confused and suddenly very angry that you forget you are holding a glass. You smash it down on the counter, and, as expected, it shatters into a million pieces. Most of them fall to the floor and right at his bare feet. His eyes darken.
Oh.
Now you are scared, and not in a way that resembles sexy foreplay. You are scared because he is turning into a stranger right before your eyes. Suddenly, all you can see is not your loving boyfriend Matt Murdock, you see the anger of both your father and your stepfather in his eyes and hear it in his voice and it instantly tells you, 'this is all your fault'.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t see…”
“One night,” he says. He moves out of the kitchen, trying not to step into the glass.
You follow him with wide eyes. “What’s that?”
“One night,” he repeats his earlier statement. “That’s all I wanted. One fucking night where people don’t prod or- or want things from me. And what do you do? You keep talking and talking, and you don’t even care that I simply don’t want to talk.”
“Matt, that is not fair. I just wanted to-“ the tears start to prick in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Jesus Christ.” And that’s where your strength stops and you retreat into your shell – the next words out of his mouth come so loud, you could have sworn they echoed off the brick walls and shot straight into your eardrums. “For once in your life, stop fucking apologizing!”
His hand lifts, mostly to underline his words, and with the bottle in his hand he is suddenly so close, your eyes squeeze shut at the gush of wind. You flinch, your entire body caving in on itself. It’s not even intentional, you can’t help it. You’ve been conditioned to expect the worst when someone raises their hand, and Matt has never done it before.
He realizes what it looks like the second your heart jumps and your blood rushes loudly in his ear. He can smell your sweat, the tears, and the fear that surrounds you. It’s your pheromones that change and something lingers in the air that makes him stop and think, what did I just do?
He has been so in his head and the city has been loud for hours, he lost most of his patience at the courthouse, and then you’re there all caring and lovely and he can’t help but tell himself he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you. He just wants quiet and to be alone while at the same time, all he wants is you, but it’s too much. It’s all too much.
And now, as you flinch away from him and his booming voice, he snaps back to reality and realizes he made a mistake. He’s never experienced you like this before, and it scares him.
“Did you just…” he begins, his voice soft and barely above a whisper.
He hears you fall to your knees, the taste of salt thick in the air and your breath shakes with every intake. You bite your lip and you collect the shards, trying to clean up your mess as if he would hate you if you didn’t. You whisper a silent, “Sorry.” And then he hears it. You’re sobbing, you try not to but you are, and it is his fault.
“Did you think I was gonna hit you?” he asks, dreading the answer.
You sniffle, not answering.
You flinched, he heard it, and not because you were surprised. You are scared, he knows.
He slowly approaches the kitchen. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”
“I just gotta clean this up,” you whimper and you brush the glass together with shaky hands. The tears are running down your cheeks in thick streams and your teeth have gnawed your bottom lip bloody, your throat dry with the denied sobs.
“I just gotta clean this up and then I can make you dinner or something. I don’t… I can fix this. I’ll fix this. I’m sorry.”
It’s your fault, you tell yourself. You pushed him. You deserve this. He worked hard the entire day and you annoyed him. He has every right to do this. In your head, at least. It makes all sense in your head while in reality, Matt has never been more shocked to read your body language than he is now.
He slowly kneels in front of you. “Answer me this,” he says, “did you flinch because you thought I was gonna hit you or because I yelled?”
You shrug, unable to look at him. One of the shards slides across your finger and you hiss, the smallest cut forming and causing blood to pool out of your skin. Still, you don’t stop. You need to clean this up before he gets even angrier at you. In your state, you don’t realize his voice has softened and he no longer stares at you with those blacked-out eyes. He looks sympathetic, almost, but most of all the guilt has spread throughout his features and his heart. He is aching to touch you, but you are scared and shaking and he doesn’t want to hurt you any further than he already has.
He had been so ignorant that he didn’t see the signs before.
“Why are you crying?” he asks again.
You wipe your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. It’s my fault,” you say. “I’ll clean this up, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
“Hey.”
“No, I gotta-”
“Stop.” His hand is on your arm then. “You cut yourself.”
“I’m sorry,” it’s a mantra you’ve taught yourself to say in the hopes you could somehow fix this before it’s too late.
But it’s not too late. When you finally look up, he’s smiling softly, and his thumb is stroking over your skin in circles.
“I’m sorry,” it’s his turn to say it. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. None of this is your fault. I was so caught up in my own shit, I… God, I would never hit you. I just- I didn’t think when I raised my hand. I didn’t think what it might look like to you. And I didn’t think when I yelled because I… in my head, I wasn’t thinking.”
Your facade cracks even more to the point you are seethrough and your defenses have fallen completely. You’re a snotty mess, shaking violently in his grasp.
“I’m trying, I swear I’m trying to be better. Just don’t be angry with me,” your voice is bordering on helpless little sobs, your lips turned downward and God, you are shaking so badly, you haven’t done so since the last fight with your father when you were a teenager.
Matt’s face softens even more, but there is a pain in there too. He takes a paper towel to wrap around your injured finger and he holds your hand, not sure if he is allowed to touch anywhere else, but he wants you to know he is here and he is going nowhere. He is neither mad nor is he going to break up with you. You try to tell yourself that, but it’s hard with the demon in your head whispering all those awful things into your ear, reminding you that everything bad that happens can only be your fault and that there is no use for you but to destroy and disappoint. But you don’t want to disappoint, you want him to be proud of you. You want him to hold you and tell you everything is alright. But you’re scared and you feel so stupidly guilty for something you can’t even put a finger on. Your bleeding finger.
“Angry with you?” he says. “No.” Matt chuckles, but it’s broken and almost whiny as he does so. “I’m not angry at you, bug. Of course not. I was just angry with the world. I was angry at everything else, but not you. I’m not angry at you. I couldn’t possibly be. I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair of me to take it out on you. I realize that now. And the glass…” he forces you away from the chaos gently, helping you stand up without hurting yourself further. “It’s just glass,” he tells you. “I’ll clean it up. There’s nothing bad about breaking something.”
“But the mess,” you say.
“Fuck the mess. The whole apartment’s a mess.”
“I’m so sorry! I can clean it. I can clean up, I promise. I just… I’m so sorry, Matt.”
“Stop apologizing, baby, please. The mess doesn’t matter. The apartment doesn’t matter, and the glass does not fucking matter. None of this is your fault. You didn’t do anything but try to help. I had no right to yell at you. And my hand… I would never hit you. Never.” He squeezes your hand. “I love you.”
You hiccup, whimpering when he pulls you away from the glass on the floor and pulls you into his arms. His chin rests on the crown of your head and you mold into him, the tears taking on new speed and wetting through his shirt. He strokes your back, not sure what else to do, and his lips find your temple. “God, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that, none of that.”
You cling tighter to him.
He keeps asking himself the same question over and over again. “Who hurt you?” he asks. It’s a valid question. A fear like that doesn’t just stem from nothing. Something happened in the past to have traumatized you this badly.
Your breathing eventually slows down, as do your tears, and you look up at him through swollen eyes. His white shirt is wet now, but he doesn’t care, he only hugs you back to his chest. “My father used to yell at me whenever I did something wrong,” you tell him, your voice muffled through his chest, but he understands every word.
His grip tightens. “Did he hit you?”
“Sometimes, but… I remember that one time I forgot to clean up after myself and he just… he…” The lack of oxygen makes you shudder and you hiccup again, nails digging into his back. “I’m sorry, he just… yelled at me. Sometimes, he’d slap me, but only sometimes. He’d threaten most of the time, but he didn’t do it often. And I mean, I was a hard kid to raise, I-“
“No, don’t blame yourself,” he is quick to cut you off. “You were a kid.”
You shudder again. “Well, I… you know, he blamed me for the smallest of things, so I got used to apologizing and trying to please everyone, but I can’t always do that. I try to fix things, but it doesn’t always work. He used to yell at me every damn time and I just… I get scared. I don’t like it when people raise their voices. It makes me feel so guilty and now I even broke a glass. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have… you had a bad day, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry like this. I swear I’m not a baby.”
You move away to rub your eyes. He grabs your face, smoothing the pads of his thumbs over your wet cheeks. The heat has pooled under the skin in an upset blush.
“Don’t apologize,” he says. “It’s okay to cry. If I’d known, baby, I…” Matt can only shake his head in disbelief.
He loves you more than anything and to see you hurting because of something another man did to you, a man who is supposed to protect you, makes him feel all kinds of things, but none of them positive.
But his anger doesn’t matter. This is about you. He has to take care of you now, not himself, and definitely not your father. It’s just you on his mind.
You choke on nothing. “He told me I have no reason to cry because he’s just stating facts.”
Matt clicks his tongue. “No, don’t ever think that again. You have every right to cry when you feel the need to.”
“It makes me weak,” you say.
“Your father’s wrong. You’re the strongest person I know,” he says. “And the fact that he yelled at you and blamed you for things that were out of your control… no one has the right to treat you like that, not even your parents, and he should have never even thought about raising his hand against you. That’s abuse. I can’t believe- fuck! Do you understand that it wasn’t your fault? That he had no right to do that?”
“Yes, but… it happened. Maybe I deserved some of those slaps. I mean you… I- I don’t know. It happened, we can’t change it. And who knows, maybe he was right.”
“Stop it! That’s not true and you know it.”
“I know, but-“
“No buts, sweetheart. I would never raise my hand against you, I promise. I’m not like your father. No one should be like him. You deserve so much better.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” you sniffle, “it was just instinct.”
“Shh,” Matt kisses you gently, “I know. It’s like me dodging punches in a fight. It’s a defense mechanism. Your father, I… you’ve never said anything. I would’ve never suspected this.”
“‘Cause I didn’t think it was important. This never happened before. You never yelled before.”
“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. You should have told me,” he says. “It’s important to me. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you. I want you to feel comfortable around me, not scared.”
You nod. “And I am, really, it’s just… I thought I did something wrong.”
His smile is soft when he leans in to kiss you again, tasting the tears on your lips. “You didn’t. I let my anger out on you for no reason. You didn’t deserve that. It won’t happen again, I promise,” and he dives right back in.
You wrap your arms around his neck, relaxing in his arms as his lips move against yours with sweet precision, making you feel lightheaded. He scared you, that much is true, but it was neither you nor his fault and you realize that now, safe in his arms as he proves his devotion to you with a single breath into your mouth. With his gentle touch around your waist he promises never to hurt you, never to let his anger out on you again, and he promises that he will drive himself to hell personally if he ever scares you like that again because he couldn’t forgive himself if anything happened to you because of him. He couldn’t live with himself if he broke your heart or triggered the trauma you brought into the relationship from your broken childhood, and he promises that he will never leave you, never put you second and always hold you when times get hard because people screw up, bad things happen, and you might be at fault sometimes, but so is he and there is no reason to be put down for being human. He wants to teach you that, he wants to help you heal yourself, and you have never felt more in love than at that moment, losing yourself in his lips, eyes and arms.
He breaks the kiss, moving on to your forehead. “If there is anything else I need to know,” he breathes hotly against your already heated skin, and the exhaustion slowly starts to seep into your bones as the shakes and tension subside from your bones, “please tell me before I make another mistake that might trigger you.”
You take in a deep breath, shaking your head. “There is not much else. My childhood wasn’t the best, but that’s okay,” you say.
He brushes his knuckles over your cheekbone. “Bad enough. Promise you’ll tell me if something else might come up?” He resembles a puppy as he tries to meet your eyes, but he fails miserably.
So you promise him, “Okay.”
“Can you forgive me for yelling?”
Your tears have finally come to a halt. “Yes,” you say.
“Thank you.”
Your eyes fall on the mess on the kitchen floor again and you go to grab the broom. Matt’s arm around your frame stop you and he gently pushes you out of the kitchen. “Let me clean it up,” he says. “Put a bandaid on your finger and then go lie down. I’ll deal with it.”
“No, I broke it. Please, Matt, let me do this.”
“Not everything is your fault, sweetheart. Besides, you already cut yourself once and with how you’re shaking, the next time you accidentally cut yourself I’m sure you’re gonna cause more damage.”
“But I-”
“Go to bed,” he insists, “I’ll be there in a second and then we’ll cuddle so you know I’m serious when I say that I love you more than life itself.”
The weight and guilt fall off your heart. “I love you,” you tell him. “More than life itself, too.”
It’s not a lie. If there is anything or anyone you love, it’s him, and you’ve never been this in love with anyone before. It’s sickening to the point it hurts, but the pain is sweet and it’s all worth it because with Matt, you can be yourself.
The past matters just a little less with someone who loves you right by your side, and he would never give up on you like everyone else did before him.
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock#daredevil#daredevil x reader#gender neutral reader#matt murdock imagines#marvel#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock angst#mentions of child abuse#hurt/comfort#matt murdock fic#daredevil fic#daddy issues (but not the sexy kind)
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absolute nightmare blunt rotation of scott summers, dick grayson, and matt murdoch as they all compete to be the most neurotic radicalised orphan with a complicated relationship with a father figure (charles xavier, bruce wayne, and the catholic god respectively)
#would any of them actually smoke? no.#scotts down one end with matt at the other. dick is comfortably in the middle#if he survived scott finding out he used to be a cop that is#dick grayson#scott summers#matt murdock#dc comics#spokes
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